


Supernatural : Season 10

by SPN2014



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 54,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPN2014/pseuds/SPN2014
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on how Supernatural Season 10 could play out with demon!Dean. A human, powered by the Hand of God, may be the only thing that can protect the world and Dean, from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean sat up slowly in the bed where Sam had placed him, no more than a couple of hours before. Crowley smiled, excited by the possibilities this turn of events promised. Dean felt strong, powerful and angry, overwhelmingly angry. He turned his head and looked at Crowley. Just seeing the smug grin on his supposed kings face caused his anger to boil over into blind rage. He was off the bed, on his feet and had his would be master, pinned to the wall quicker than he imagined possible. With Deans forearm press tightly across his throat, Crowley struggled to speak.  
“Wow, down boy,” he croaked, but despite the situation, he found that he was immensely proud of Dean’s show of strength. “I’m on your side, Dean. We’re playing for the same team now.” Dean wasn’t about to listen to anything the limey bastard had to say and was planning to snap his neck in response, when the smile on Crowley’s face widened. “Sorry Dean gotta go,” he said before he disappeared.  
  
Alone in the room, Dean's breathing was heavy, he was livid, having been robbed of the chance to tear Crowley apart. He instinctively knew what he was, he could feel it, right through to his core. He was no longer human, no longer a Winchester. He was violence, darkness and chaos. He was everything he had despised, everything he had hunted. He was evil but also surprised to find he really didn’t mind. This was better, sure he was consumed with anger and craved to see the life slip away from some ones eyes, by his hand, but he felt no fear, no guilt, and no self doubt. He knew what he was and he knew what he needed to do to feel better, to take the edge off. It was simple and right now he was enjoying simple. He looked down at his hand still gripping the First Blade and felt its strength rushing through him. He glanced around his room, his eyes still black, and saw the world differently. Colours, although not gone, were duller, muted like looking through dark glasses or tinted windows. There was nothing left here for him, nothing he needed or wanted.  
  
“Impeccable timing as always Moose,” Crowley said, as he popped into existence in the centre of a Devils trap, however, Sam wasn’t in the mood for any of Crowley’s banter.  
“Shut the hell up! You don’t speak, you bastard,” Sam hissed. “Say another word and I’ll drive this through your throat.” Crowley eyed the angel’s blade that flashed in the taller but younger Winchester's hand and although he wasn’t in the least bit intimidated he remained quiet. “You did this,” Sam growled. “You got him tangled up with the mark. You got him killed. And now you are going to fix it. Bring him back. I don’t care what the terms are, deal, now!” Sam demanded. Crowley continued to remain silent until Sam prompted him with an impatient “Well?”  
“Oh right, I’m allowed to speak now, am I?” He replied sarcastically. “You know, it’s funny, I was only saying, not five minutes ago, how you Winchesters have become so predictable. I suppose if you are going as long as you two have its inevitable that you would at some point rehash the same story line. But you two don’t seem to have another dance move. Oh no he’s dead, better try and sell my soul, again.”  
“Enough small talk, Crowley. Dean. Alive. Now!” Sam yelled at the demon.  
“Sorry Sam, no can do. No deal can help your brother now,” he replied matter of factly, to which Sam erupted.  
“Don’t play games with me, you son of a bitch. You are the God damned, now uncontested, King of hell, thanks to us. You owe us. You can and you will bring him back.” Sam demanded. For the first time that night, the amused look left Crowley’s face.  
“First off ’ _Sammy_ ’, let’s get one thing straight, I’m the king of hell, once again, thanks to your brother, yes, but in spite of you. You did nothing but cause the weakness that allowed me to lose control in the first place, you and your pointless trials.” Crowley yelled. He paused, composing himself once again before he continued. “So you, I owe you nothing. Well perhaps a little pay back but certainly not my help.”  
“You slimy bastard!” Sam spat as Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “King of Hell, Leader of the Underworld, Demon. Any of these ringing a bell?” Sam tossed the angel blade from one hand to the other. “I guess you are of no use to me then,” he said, stepping forward. Crowley raised his hands in defence.  
“Look, it’s not that I won’t make a deal, it’s that I honestly can’t,” he tried to explain.  
“Bull!” Sam snapped.  
“I’m not lying, Sam, no deal can help him now. I can’t bring someone back to life that isn’t dead, not technically dead anyway.” A sly smile slid across his face.  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam asked, afraid to believe that what he was hearing was true.  
“Your brother is not dead, Moose. He has, how do I put this delicately, he has switched alliances so to speak, he’s playing for 'Team Crowley' now.” Crowley was enjoying this more that he had expected, the lost puppy dog look on Jolly Greens face as the realisation set in was too much to bare. “And boy, does he wake up cranky!” Crowley added, but Sam was gone before he could finish his sentence. “I’ll just wait here then,” he shouted after him, looking at the trap beneath his feet.

Sam tore through the bunker and into Dean’s room only to find it empty. Turning quickly he ran back down to the study, but there was no sign of Dean. Looking up, he could see the main door was wide open, his brother long gone. Sam’s hands automatically went to either side of his head. He looked around the room in desperation, not knowing what to do or how to feel. His brother might be alive, might be a demon, and might be neither of those things. All he knew for sure was that Dean was missing and that Crowley was going to start talking or he was going to kill him, slowly.  
Before heading back down to the demon, Sam tried every number he had for Dean but none led to a response. He prayed to Cas, not knowing if he was alive or dead either and got the same result. The last thing the wanted was to face Crowley again, he was exhausted physically and mentally, running on fumes from an equal mixture of coffee and whiskey, but right now he had no other options. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before venturing back to his captive.

Dean had left his room with the full intent of finding the voices he could hear yelling at each other somewhere in the bunker and allowing his blade to silence them, giving it the fix it was desperately yearning for. However as he had drawn nearer the sound something in him, something very small, but still human, still Dean, pleaded with him to leave, told him that he needed to put distance between himself and his brother. Part of him still existed that didn’t want Sam to be the first, of many, to feel the effects of the mark or his new lust for death and destruction. So he turned and he ran, clearing the bunker just as Sam was running into his room.

Dean continued running, fighting the hunger inside him. He didn’t stop, not once, for fear of losing the small amount of self control he had found. He had been running for over an hour, never tiring, never slowing. He ran with no destination in mind, the only two thoughts in his mind, locked in battle for control. On one hand he desperately wanted, not just to kill, but to completely destroy someone, anyone, human, angel or demon, it didn’t matter. He was sick with the need for it.  
On the other side, his human side, he knew that he needed to find somewhere isolated, away from those he cared about or it would be them that would feel their flesh tear under the pressure of his Blade first. The longer he ran the more the population around him decreased, until, satisfied that he was in a remote enough area, he slowed. Looking around he found himself on a dark county road in the middle of nowhere. A quick decision took him off the road and into a heavily wooded area to his left. He began to run again, continuing deeper and deeper into the wilderness, until the sun started to rise behind him.

In the morning light he could see an old cabin on the horizon. Little more than a one room shack, clearly abandoned. He didn’t need to rest, but he could do with somewhere to clear his head and try to get his thoughts together. He slowed as he approached it. Part of him hoping it was indeed empty. But the now stronger desire was that there was some poor soul inside that he could slowly and mercilessly drain the life from. He was still battling his conflicting wishes as he entered the cabin and he honestly couldn’t tell how he felt on discovering that it was in fact empty.  
  
The place looked like it hadn’t seen a soul in decades and consisted of nothing more than the four walls he could see from the outside. The small dirt track that led to the cabin had long since overgrown with weeds and inside a thick layer of dust covered the floor. He wasn’t the least bit tired but for want of anything better to do he sunk to the ground and sat with his back resting against the far wall. His mind, the Blade and the Mark were all screaming at him. He was all too aware what would silence them, it took all of his self control to fight against what now felt a base instinct. Death, destruction, pain and sorrow were all he craved.

Sam rejoined Crowley, “Ok, start talking, where is he?” He demanded.  
“From here, I have no way of knowing,” Crowley admitted. Sam said nothing, an idea forming in his head. He walked over to the shelves behind him, selected a couple of items and then laid them out on the floor in front of the devils trap. He rolled open a leather pouch that still contained vials of his blood. “Wow, hold it there Hulk, I’m clean, back on the wagon,” Crowley said, clearly fazed by the sight of Sam’s blood. Sam looked up at Crowley.  
“It’s not for that,” he said as he emptied two vials into a metal bowl. “But good to know I have some leverage,” he said coldly as he stood up and offered the bowl to the demon. “All points bulletin. I want every one of your scumbag demons looking for Dean, to be brought back here to me, unharmed, “ he instructed.  
“Look Sam, yes I can do that, but no demon on my payroll will be able to bring him in, not if he doesn’t want to. Let me out of here, I’ll have everyone I own, demon or otherwise, looking for him. But bringing him in, I’m the only one with a hope of talking him down,” Crowley explained.  
“You think I am going to let you near him, not a chance. You’re staying right here,” Sam replied.  
“A deal then, Sam, you know I can’t break a deal. No soul, just my freedom for your brother. I will bring him in, if I can, straight to you,” Crowley bargained. Sam weighted up his options and to his dismay found he had none.  
“If you can’t find him or if you can’t bring him in, I’ll have you back in this trap and so full of my blood you will think you were born a Winchester. You got that?” Sam threatened, as he used the angel blade to scrape a line through the trap before he had a chance to second guess his decision. Crowley didn’t hang around, without another word was gone.

Sam was now totally alone, more alone than he had been at any other point in his life. He wasn’t an idiot and didn’t trust Crowley an inch but what other choice did he have, there was no one else to turn to. He had no idea what to do next. For the first time in years, he let his anger and frustration finally take over. He turned from where he stood to the shelves behind him. In one motion, he swept its entire contents to the floor. Feeling no better for it he moved on to the shelf below. Folders, boxes and jars were thrown across the room. Each crash or smash failing to be the release he so desperately needed. When there was nothing left to destroy he sunk to his knees and in a moment of pure desperation he wept. He cried for his loss, for his pain, for his brother. It was at this, his weakest and darkest moment the angel finally appeared behind him. Castiel said nothing, simply placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam turned and on seeing his friend, for a moment wept a little harder. Cas stood there, remaining silent until Sam regained control and could stand again.

Dean had been sitting in the cabin for hours, motionless except for his grip on the Blade, his hand tightening and loosening. Still his gaze was drawn to it over and over again. With it, image after image of what he could be doing with it flashed through his head. The longer he sat there, the more consumed with blood lust he became. He knew the pain and the sickness he was feeling could be cured with a slice from his Blade. His anger grew once again into rage, his rage into something new, something bigger, and something more powerful that he had ever experienced before. Convinced now that if he didn’t act on what he desired and act on it quick the only outcome would be his own death. It was now a matter of self preservation. He was about to get up and leave the cabin in search of someone to take the edge off on when he heard it, the crunch of gravel under tyres further up the overgrown road. Any shred of humanity left him in an instant, his eyes flashed to black. Even devoid of colour the hunger he felt could be clearly seen in them, a hunger that he was about to feed.

A sickly smile took over Dean's face as he watched, through a crack in the old door, a beat up flat bed truck round the corner and pull up into clearing outside the shack. He couldn’t believe his luck; the urge within him was so strong now that he never once questioned why someone would show up here, now, to a cabin that obviously hadn’t seen another visitor in years. He could see the driver before she left the truck. He watched her look at the cabin, frown and then, fruitlessly, recheck her sat-nav. She was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, pretty but unkempt with short messy black hair and an old faded black t-shirt. Not that any of that mattered to Dean, all he cared about was that she was breathing now and soon she would not. She grabbed a bag off the passenger seat and jumped out of the truck. Swinging it over her shoulder she headed towards the cabin door. Dean could feel his heart speed up in anticipation of what he was going to do to her. He took a step back and positioned himself in the shadows. She opened the door and entered without hesitation; this girl was either expecting the place to be empty or was completely fearless. From his vantage point, without thinking, Dean instinctively flicked his hand. Immediately an invisible force, acting on his behalf, picked her up and threw her against the far wall where she remained suspended, her feet dangling at least a foot off the ground. Dean hid his surprise at his new found ability and without faltering advanced upon her.  
“Lady, this is really not your lucky day,” he said through gritted teeth. He was going to take his time with this, savour every last minute. He wanted; no, he needed to see her blood slowly spill into pools on the floor. He raised his Blade but paused when she spoke his name.  
“Dean Winchester, I presume,” she said, somewhat winded but by no means fearful, a fact that mildly irked Dean, still however, he held no curiosity as to why she was here or even how she knew his name. When he didn’t reply she tried again. “Look, I’m here to help you, how about you hear me out before you gut me?” Her speaking and blatant lack of fear where really beginning to annoy Dean; ruining what should have been a perfect moment, a moment he had been fantasising about since he woke up. He stepped forward until he stood directly in front of her, his eyes level with hers. “Oh come on,” she continued. “You’re Dean Winchester, right? The Dean Winchester who, supposedly, held out under Alistair’s knife for nearly thirty years. The same Dean Winchester who fought his way through and out of purgatory. Surely, you of all people, should be able to hold off a little demonic bloodlust for long enough to hear me out?” Dean inched closer to her, clearly angered by her incessant speaking. In what was little more than a whisper, he hissed.  
“How about you shut the hell up, you stupid bitch.” He grabbed her roughly by the chin in an effort to prevent any further comment. The affect was immediate, as soon as his hand made contact with her face, the black veil disappeared from his eyes. The anger, the need kill began to weaken and finally his demon side waned enough until he was, not wholly, but more human Dean than demon Dean. More human in fact than he had felt in weeks, since he had accepted the mark. Dean withdrew his hand and the demonic force that held the girl to wall released her. She landed on her feet, stood for a moment, looking up at him. Dean could see black fill her eyes. She smiled warmly at him.  
“Now, isn’t that better?” She said wearily, before dropping to her knees. Dean watched as her body tensed as she seemed to struggle to regain control. She tried to give him a reassuring grin, to let him know she was going to be ok, but instead she doubled over at his feet. He knelt next to her to try and help but she gently pushed him away. “Just give me a second, I’ll be okay,” She said forcing the words through obvious pain.

 

Sam had never been so relieved to see the angel. “You’re alive, we.... I mean, I-I didn’t know if you made it, I thought you might be dead.” Sam’s words spilled out, he stepped forward and hugged the angel. Castiel returned the embrace, reading Sam and the situation correctly yet still not quiet understanding the human need for tactility. “Is it true?” Sam asked, releasing him.  
“I’m sorry Sam. I do not know what truth you are referring to,” Cas replied.  
“Dean, is he a demon? Is he a Knight of Hell?” Sam asked impatiently. Castiel frowned.  
“I’m confused, I was informed he was… dead,” He replied.  
“He is, was, I don’t know for sure. You’re an angel, can’t you tell, sense it or something?” Sam asked.  
“Heaven has been shut for sometime; it’s still not fully open or functional. The veil is awash with lost souls, too many for us to get a clear picture of who is who,” Cas explained and then realising what Sam had said, back tracked. “Wait, what do you mean 'was'?” Sam may have gotten control of his emotions but he was still frantic for answers and wanted to get the angel up to speed as quick as possible.  
“He’s gone. I don’t know how or where. Crowley said…“ Castiel cut him off at the mention of the demon.  
“Crowley?” He said disapprovingly.  
“Yeah, Crowley,” Sam said defensively. “I had no where else to go. Dean was gone, you were MIA. What was I supposed to do?” Cas dipped his head in shame.  
“I am sorry Sam, I got here as soon as I could.”  
“You’re here now,” Sam replied quickly, not willing to waste time hearing Castiel’s excuses. “Anyway, Crowley said Dean was, well, I don’t know for sure, He said he was awake and had gone dark side.” Sam’s voice betrayed his panic. The angel thinned his lips.  
“I was afraid something like this might happen,” Cas muttered, to which Sam erupted.  
“What? You knew this was going to happen and you said nothing?”  
“I didn’t know for sure and if I was right there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it, not once Dean had accepted the mark anyway,” Cas attempted to explain himself.  
“For Gods sake Cas, if I had known it was even a possibility I would have stayed with him, taken precautions, kept him here, at the very least.” Sam was livid. “Not have him out on the wind. Who knows what he is doing out there.” He stepped closer to the angel and prodded him in the cheat with his finger. “If he hurts someone, or worse, that is on you, you understand, it’s on you, not him.” Cas nodded his agreement.  
“You’re right, I guess I didn’t want to admit that it was a possibility, even to my self, let alone you or Dean.”  
“So you chose to stick your head in the sand, solid plan there Cas, real good,” Sam snapped sarcastically.  
“I’m sorry Sam, I made a call and it was the wrong one, again. I’m not cut out for the big decisions; I’m not cut out to be in command. I’m a soldier not a leader,” Castiel replied. Sam didn’t know what the angel was talking about and right now he didn’t really care.  
“Save your moment of self doubt for another time,” he said harshly. “Can you find him? Can you fix him?”  
“If he is a Knight of Hell, then no, I can’t track him. The knights were gifted with the ability to remain hidden from all angels, bar one, Lucifer.”  
“Great,” Sam said clearly still annoyed at Cas. “Well what about fixing him, can you change him back?” He asked.  
“Honestly, I don’t know. But if there is a way, on Heaven or Earth, I promise you, I will find it and give you back your brother.” Sam gave Castiel as solemn nod; he knew the angel, bad decisions aside, was a man of his word.  
“I have Crowley looking for him now. If he finds him, he will bring him back here,” Sam informed him.  
“And you trust him?” Cas asked.  
“Not in the slightest but what else can we do?”

It took her a minute or two but the she was eventually able to right herself, although she still looked pale and drawn. “Sorry about that,” she apologised to Dean. “But you packed a bigger punch than I was expecting.” She dusted herself off before introducing herself. “Let’s try this again. Hello Dean, I’m Faith Patton and I’m pretty sure I’ve been sent here to help you.” She smiled at him, but didn’t offer her hand and neither did he. He took a step back. “What are you?” He asked suspiciously.  
“I’m not a demon if that’s what you’re thinking, not an angel or anything like that either. “ She replied too vaguely for Deans liking. “Okay, so we have covered what you’re not, I’ll ask again, what, the hell, are you?” He asked angrily.  
“I’m human, just like you, well maybe not you, anymore. Sorry.” She fumbled, annoyed at her wording. “I do however, happen to have an ability that I believe, you could benefit from right about now,” she added.  
“What was that back there, am I still…?” Dean asked, not wanting to say what out loud what he feared but also knowing her answer already.  
“No, I’m afraid not, that was just a temporary fix, the darkness will build in you again, over time,” Faith said. Dean’s mind raced with questions.  
“Did Cas send you?” He started with.  
“Cas? Oh Castiel, your angel friend, no, I don’t know, I don’t think so.”  
“Wait, you don’t know who sent you here?” He asked, suspicious again.  
“Look, all I know is; about eight hours ago, your name and the coordinates of this place started ringing in my head, over and over again,” she stated.  
“And what? You just jump in your truck and drive out to the middle of nowhere because a voice in your head told you to? No questions asked?” Dean said in disbelief.  
“I’m an Oubliette,” Faith replied, as if that would answer all his questions.  
“An Oubli-what?” He questioned.  
“Shit, sorry, I thought you’d know,” she replied, clearly disappointed that she would have to explain further. She was exhausted from calming Dean and could really have done with a couple of hours shut eye. Sighing she continued. “When evil dies, it gets sent to purgatory.”  
“Yep, been there, done that,” Dean commented. Faith looked at him, rolling her eyes.  
“Right, but sometimes the evil that dies is deemed, by Heaven, to be too evil, too crafty for even purgatory. When that happens, the big bad get sent to someone like me. My soul is sort of like a super powered compost heap for all things evil.” Dean shook his head letting her know that she needed to give him more, that he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “My soul acts like a prison cell for the essence or what ever equates to a soul in the soulless creature that died. My soul takes it in, absorbs the evil and then over a life time or so breaks it down until there is little or nothing left.” She paused to let that much sink in.  
“But I’m not dead,” Dean jumped in. “Not technically anyway, I don’t think. How did you do whatever it was you did back there?”  
“I guess you could call it a residual effect. It happens to anyone who touches me, demon or human, their rage and anger is drawn out of them and into me, into my soul. You could stick me into the middle of a prison riot and within minutes I could have everyone sitting around holding hands and singing Kumbaya.” Faith quietly chuckled at her own analogy as Dean took a minute to process all this before speaking again.  
”OK, so if Cas didn’t send you, who did?” He asked.  
“Sorry Dean I honestly don’t know. What I do know is, if I don’t get to close my eyes for an hour or so I’m going to fall where I stand.” She looked around the shack. “We should get out of here, for one, preferably somewhere I can at least sit down.” She shot him a weary smile. “I also think, you need to get in contact with your angel, Castiel. He may be able to help,” she added.  
“Sam,” Dean said, suddenly aware of how worried he must be.  
“Your brother?” She replied.  
“Yeah, he’ll be back at the bunker. We’ll head there, I’ll drive, you sleep. But when we get there, you are going to answer some questions like how you know so much about me, Sam and Cas,” he remarked.  
“Hey as long as sleep is involved it sounds like a plan to me,” She replied already heading for the door. Dean followed her out; she turned and tossed him her keys before climbing into the passenger seat. Dean hung back, taking out his phone. There were six missed calls, all from Sam. In his rage filled haze he hadn’t even heard the phone ring once. Aware of how desperate his brother must be feeling he hit the redial button before putting the phone to his ear.

Sam looked at Cas hopefully as his cell buzzed on the table next to him. He checked the number. “It’s him!” He confirmed before answering it. “Dean?” He asked expectantly.  
“Hey Sam,” Dean replied.  
“Dean, are you ok?” He blurted.  
“Is that a trick question?” He answered rhetorically and then added, ”Pretty far from it, brother. But it looks like I’m still in the game, for now anyway. I’m on my way back to you. Maybe only an hour or two out.”  
“Dean, Are you a…” Sam trailed off, either unable or unwilling to articulate the question he was dreading the answer to.  
“I’m not sure what I am, not human anyway, a demon, maybe a knight.” He answered then added quickly, “But I have it under control, for now. I’ve met someone who seems to be able to help me, I’m bringing her back with me,” Dean said cryptically.  
“Who? How?” Sam asked.  
“Look, I’ll explain everything when I get back. In the mean time I need you to try and get in contact with Cas.” He instructed.  
“He’s here with me now.” Sam replied  
“Good. See what he knows about Oubliettes. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Dean ordered.  
“Oubli-whats?” Sam replied and Dean allowed himself a smile at what was obviously a typical Winchester response.  
“Oubliettes, check the archives too, I’ll be with you soon.” Dean hung up the phone, leaving Sam with more questions than answers. He climbed into the truck; next to him, Faith was already fast asleep, her head resting against the window.

Sam turned to Cas, a look of disbelief and relief on his face. “He’s coming in,” he said, placing the phone back on the table.  
“Did he say something about Oubliettes?” Cas asked urgently.  
“Yeah, you know what that is?”  
“Not a what, a who. They are rare, very rare. I’ve certainly never met one.” Cas had a strange glint in his eye and he started to straighten his tie and attempted to brush creases out of his coat. Sam watched him for a minute with a curious confused look.  
“Ok Cas, you look fine, what is wrong with you? What the hell is an Oubliette?” He asked again.  
“Right ok,” the angel replied, some what embarrassed. “Oubliettes are human, but they have special souls, ones acts as a type of container for the worst kinds of evil. Once a being of true malice dies it is imprisoned with the Oubliettes where its soul feeds on the evil, degrading it until there is practically nothing left.” Sam seemed a little unsure so Cas thought for a moment before continuing. “The best comparison I can make would be to the Phantom Zone,” he added. Sam, still not used to the angels newly found frames of reference, was taken aback.  
“As in Superman and General Zod?” He asked.  
“Yes, but with the added affect that the longer Zod remained in the Phantom Zone the weaker he would become until he pretty much no longer existed. The power, the evil, the anger and the rage, it all gets stripped away, along with everything else, memories, personality, history, until he doesn’t even remember that he ever existed outside the Zone. Its quiet ingenious, there is never any hope of escape as an Oubliettes soul never dies. It simple gets passed from one human host to the next.”  
“Like reincarnation,” Sam suggested.  
“In a sense, yes.” Cas agreed. I don’t know much more. Only an elite few angels were ever entrusted with having a Oubliette in their charge. It is seen as a great honour and shrouded in much secrecy,” Cas gushed.  
“Ok, rein it in there,Cas,” Sam said attempting to bring the angel back to focus. “How can that help Dean?”  
“The power of an Oubliettes soul leaks into the human hosts body, allowing them to defuse anger and evil around them. Sort of an internal defence mechanism. Anyone who makes physical contact with an Oubliette has all evil temporally drained from them. If Dean has in fact come across one, his demon side could be kept in check until we find a more permanent solution.”

It was a little over an hour and a half later when Dean pulled the truck off the main highway and took the small side road that led down to the bunker. It had only been a couple of hours since Faith had drained him, he was still in control but already feeling the pull of the Blade on him again. His hand reached inside his jacket and rested on the sharp bone. The reassurance it provided him came tainted with a fresh bolt of bloodlust. He glanced over at the still sleeping Faith and imagined how good it would feel to draw the Blades edge across her exposed neck, to see her blood poor down her chest and saturate her top. He pulled his hand back, shocked and frightened at how quickly his mind went to the darkness. He shook her by her shoulder and she reluctantly woke up. “Come on, we’re here,” he said. He was eager to get inside where there would be others, a distraction from the images still flashing through his head.  
Sam and Cas both stood as the bunker door was pulled open.  
Dean entered first, closely followed by a still groggy Faith. There was no jovial reunion or welcome. Both the Winchesters maintained an awkward distance from each other. Sam, unsure of who or what his big brother was anymore and Dean, painfully aware that the love he felt for his little brother was now equalled by his desire to rip him apart with his bare hands. It was Castiel who finally broke the silence.  
“How are you holding up, Dean?” He asked, also keeping an unusual and obvious distance from his old friend.  
“Better,” he replied, neither willing nor able to go into greater detail. Faith stepped in and spoke on Dean’s behalf, something he was grateful for.  
“He’s had a pretty rough night. I’ve been able to take the edge off, somewhat, for now. But it has already started to build again. Right now he is fighting every demonic base instinct inside him.” She stepped beyond Dean, approached Sam and Castiel and introduced herself. “You must be Sam, and you, the angel Castiel. It’s nice to finally meet you both. I’m Faith.” Much to Castiel’s embarrassment, Sam offered his hand in welcome. Before she could accept, the angel stepped forward and quickly lowered Sam’s hand with his own.  
“Oubliettes tend to avoid shaking hands, for obvious reasons,” he chastised the younger Winchester. “I’m sorry about him,” he continued, stepping between Sam and Faith, not having any issue standing uncomfortably close to their guest. “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting one of your kind before. It’s a true honour.”  
“Er, thanks?” She replied, more than a little creeped out by the angel’s reverence. She took a not so subtle step back, returning to Dean’s side.  
“I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, but first we need to get our boy here,” she placed her hand on Dean’s sleeved forearm, “secured in a Devil’s Trap, while we still can.” Sam and Cas both tensed and looked at Dean, worried how he was going to react to what was being suggested. They had discussed it in his absence but both were reluctant to broche the subject themselves.  
“Its okay, she’s right. I know I’m a time bomb. Its better I’m contained. And if you’re going to do it, it had better be now.” He was doing his best to sound non-threatening but his sentence came out more menacing than he would have liked. “Because I promise you, you won’t have a hope of getting me in there later.” Sam shifted guiltily.  
“Ah…, we have a place set up already,” He admitted sheepishly. Dean gave him a questioning look. “We hoped we wouldn’t need it, but we figured it was better to be safe than sorry. We needed to do something, it was more busy work than anything else,” He tried to explain, but he gave up and instead lead the group out a side door. To Dean’s surprise didn’t head towards the room in the basement where they had kept Crowley. Sam noted Deans reaction.  
“It didn’t seem right, sticking you in the dungeon, so we did this,” he said as he opened the door to one of the many unused bedrooms in the bunker. The majority of the room was taken up with a large Devil’s Trap, inside which, was a cot and a small side table with a lamp and Dean’s mp3 player. To the left, half in and half outside the circle was a table. One chair conspicuously alone, inside the trap and a couple on the other side, safely outside. Dean looked at Sam incredulously.  
“We aren’t going to just lock you away, Dean. This is temporary. We will find a way to fix this,” Sam promised.  
Without a word, Dean unceremoniously stepped across the line into the Devil’s Trap. He surveyed the room and gave the bed a little shake. It was securely bolted to the floor, as was everything else inside the circle. “Some busy work,” Dean remarked. “But you do realise I don’t sleep anymore, don’t you Sam?” Sam shrugged, but said nothing. Faith turned to Cas.  
“How about we give these two a minute?” She said to the angel and left the room without waiting for a response. Dean said nothing for a minute, and then he noticed that Sam was whispering to himself under his breath.  
“Are you trying to exorcise me?” He threw his brother a ridiculing look. “Seriously Sam, I’m not possessed. Do you really think that is going to do anything?” Sam continued the rite, his face telling Dean that he was be willing to try anything. “Besides I tried it on the drive over here. Played the copy you put on my phone.” He admitted. “Not so much of a tickle.” Sam still said nothing, the physical change in his brother, even now while he jeered him, would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, anyone else but him. He couldn’t quiet put his finger on what it was. Dean, although had the potential to be seen as a pretty boy, always had a sternness to him, a hardness that usually counteracted his good looks but now there was something new, an intensity, a coldness in his eyes that made Sam’s skin crawl. Put on the spot by Cas and Faith’s abrupt exit Sam wasn’t sure what he even wanted to say to his brother.  
“I’m sorry Sam, about all this, I didn’t know.” was all Dean could manage, although he wanted to say so much more.  
“Yeah, I know me too.” Sam replied.

Faith waited until they were out of the Winchesters ear shot before she stopped and turned to Castiel.  
“Dean may not be our only problem,” she began. Cas looked at her, giving her his full attention, still somewhat in awe of their new found ally. “My soul, it shouldn’t be, but it’s weakening, has been for some time now. I’ve been calling my angel for months but she hasn’t answered. My soul had been kicking around for over sixty lifetimes, nearly four thousand years and I’ve never been this weak and she has never gone AWOL before,” she explained, fear and concern in her voice. Castiel frowned.  
“I may know the reason for that,” he remarked. “Heaven has had a lot of trouble lately, it’s a long story but the short version is that the doors to Heaven were locked and the angels fell.” Faith was shocked.  
“What, all of them?” She asked.  
“Yes, I’m afraid so, but it could account for your angel going missing and if your soul draws its power from Heaven it too would have been cut off when it went into lock down,” Cas explained.  
“So, my angel fell, she is out there somewhere, alone?” Faith said panicked. “We have to find her, she is not cut out for a human life,” she said.  
“We have only just regained control of heaven, angels are returning, but slowly. None the less I will go there now and see if I can locate her. What is her name?” He asked.  
“It’s Sarah, but that’s not her real name. My soul continues on but I am temporary, so she uses a code name to protect her identity, you know after I bite the dust, so to speak,” Faith commented.  
“We will just have to hope it is enough to go on. I’ll return as soon as I can,” Cas assured her, turning slightly.  
“Wait, Castiel, there’s more,” she said, unhappy about what she was about to share with him. She dropped her eyes to the floor unsure why she felt so guilty about what she had no control over.  
“What is it?” He asked.  
“I knew all about the Winchesters and their angel before I was given Dean’s coordinates.” Cas eyed her suspiciously. “You see, as a demon degrades within me I take on their memories. Learning whatever we can from them, intelligence I suppose. Anyway my latest inmate knew all about you three; it was Sam Winchester who took him down. My prisoner, he holds a serious grudge and there is a lot of history between those boys in there and him.”  
“Who is it?” Cas asked.  
“A high level demon by the name of Alistair, a real piece of work.”  
“Yes, I am aware of him,” Castiel answered sternly.  
“Castiel, as my soul weakens he regains his strength, I don’t know what will happen if the balance shifts. This is all new ground for me.”  
“Ok, I had better go. Listen to me, under no circumstances are you to let Dean know who your inmate is. Do you understand?” He warned.  
“Better than I’d like to, I’ve had a first hand account of Dean and Alistair’s partnership in hell.” Cas nodded and was gone. Faith had hoped she would have felt better having confided her fears in someone else, but the panic she saw in the angels eyes just now only made her worry more.

 

Crowley had everyone at his disposal either looking for Dean or researching Knights of Hell. He had every intention of returning him to Sam, if and when he found him. But he was going to have a word in his ear before he handed him over. He figured he’d hang around long enough to see his new fledging knight tear apart the Jolly Green Giant before escorting him back to hell to figure out their new relationship. He was excited, if he could control Dean, get him working for Hell, the possibilities were endless. Dean, like Cain, could train him an army of Knights. Allowing Crowley to branch out of Hell and make a bigger, more permanent impact on earth. Hell on Earth; that was the dream anyway. Since his returned to hell however, his mood had quickly gone from excitement to frustration and now to pure annoyance. He was not happy with what he was hearing.  
”What exactly are you trying to say?” He yelled at the latest demon to stand in front of him attempting to deliver the information he had the misfortune to uncover.  
“Er… ah… It’s just that this particular piece of lore suggests that no demon has the power to command a Knight of Hell. Lucifer was an archangel and stronger than any demon.” He turned the page and pointed at a paragraph in an attempt to remind his king that this was by no means his personal opinion. “It states here, that only a fallen archangel or a being of equal power and malice may control a Knight of Hell.” Crowley stood, placing his hands on the desk in front of him.  
“So you’re telling me, that I, the God damned King of Hell, am not powerful enough to control a dead, former human, hopped up on juice from a tattoo and a fricken donkeys jaw bone, is that it?” He yelled.  
“No sir, I’m not saying that at all, I’m just letting you know what the lore says.” The demon spluttered.  
“Get out and find me a way of controlling my new knight.” Crowley screamed and the demon hurried out, happy to put the large double doors between him and his angry master.  
“Bloody angels, never willing to share their toys.” Crowley grumbled to himself. He was bitterly disappointed by how this was playing out, but still he held on to the hope that he could convince Dean to side with him anyway. He had cut his teeth as a cross roads demon after all, a born negotiator. Plus they had history; they had bonded over the last year. It was possible that maybe Crowley, the deal maker extraordinaire, could talk him around, without the need for control over him.

 

Hannah approached Castiel as soon as reappeared in Heaven. “I’m glad you’re back,” She said. “Our numbers are growing by the hour as we locate more of our fallen brothers and sisters.”  
“I’m happy to hear that Hannah, you are doing good work up here,” Castiel complimented her. She smiled, happy to have pleased him.  
“But there is still much to do and to organise. Now that you are back it will be easier, they will listen to you, they are looking to you for direction,” she answered. Castiel looked apologetically at her.  
“I’m sorry, Hannah, but I can not stay, there is a situation with the Winchesters and I am needed there. I am here to locate a particular angel and then I must leave again.”  
“But you are needed here, Castiel, Heaven is not yet fully operational, we need our leader, we need your guidance,” Hannah argued.  
“On Earth, you were my number two; if you are willing, I hoped you would continue to do so here also,” Cas said. It seemed to be enough to placate her for now.  
“I would be honoured,” she gushed and started to speak rapidly. “There are many thousands of lost souls trapped in the veil, I will send a garrison now and more as we have them to spare,” she said delighted with Castiel’s show of faith in her. “You said you were looking for an angel. Give me a name and I will get to it personally,” she added, still eager to impress him.  
“I don’t have a name; all I know is that she was charged with an Oubliette. I have her code name, Sarah and nothing else.”  
“Castiel, you know as well as I do that without an angels name there is no way to track her,” Hannah replied.  
“I know,” Cas agreed bleakly. “I hoped there would be records here that we weren’t privy to under the previous regime.”  
“I don’t believe so, Oubliettes identities are a closely guarded secret, it’s not something that would be written down.” Hannah paused but then her face lit up. “It’s a long shot, but perhaps Metatron might know something that could be useful,” she suggested.  
   
Hannah had Metatron brought to an integration room where Cas was waiting for him. With his hands and feet in chains, he shuffled to the chair. “Good to see you again Castiel, and so soon,” he said as he sat down. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked with a grin.  
“I want to know everything you know about Oubliettes,” Cas demanded.  
“Wow, I don’t know what I was expecting but it was not that. A bit random but okay I’ll bite. I do know a fair bit about Oubliettes; I guess you could say I wrote the book on them.” He was enjoying this, happy to be out of his cell.  
“How do I find an Oubliettes angel by only their code name?” Cas asked wanting to speed up this whole affair, he found it difficult to be in the same room as Metatron and not drive his angel blade through his heart, for everything he had done, to Heaven, to his siblings and for what he had done to Dean.  
“Slow your roll there Castiel. I have something you want and you have me on chains. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t try to use this situation to my advantage.” Cas rolled his eyes.  
“What is it you want, Metatron?” He asked impatiently.  
“I saw what an eternity in a heavenly cell did to Gadreel. I don’t want that for me.” Cas attempted to interrupt, to tell him that there was no way but Metatron spoke over him. “Now before you jump to conclusions, I know you won’t just let me walk out of here, I get that. But you could let me fall,” he suggested. “What has this body got left in it? Thirty years tops. Thirty years as a helpless human and then Death. An undignified end, yes, but it seems a better alternative to an eon in that cell.”  
“That is not an option, you will remain in that cell till the end of time for what you have done,” Castiel answered. Metatron nodded, correctly guessing that this would be the angel’s response.  
“I’m assuming that your interest in all things Oubliette related is due to the fact that during the lock down you’ve managed to misplace a few thousand angels and now you find yourself in possession of a human prison cell, full of all kinds of nasties, with a lock that is on a count down and you have no idea what to do next,” Metatron teased. It annoyed Cas how accurately he had hit it on the nail on the head.  
“What is happening out there is no longer a concern of yours,” he snapped.  
“Okay, how about a freebie then? A show of good faith. A taste of just how helpful I could be to you,” Metatron said, he stared at Cas like a teacher trying to tease the correct answer out of a failing student. “Do you know that the relationship between an Oubliette and their angel is held together by nothing more than a stone? No simple stone, mind you. Each angel that is chosen is gifted with a small sacred stone no larger than a pebble, that has been touched by the hand of God. It is this stone and not Heaven, that powers the Oubliette.” Castiel tried his best to hold his poker face.  
'Damn it!' He thought to himself, he needed this information but he couldn’t bring himself to make a deal, not with Metatron. Not the angel who killed Dean and caused him to become the monster he was now. Plus Cas’s resent decisions had caused an unfathomable amount of trouble and in turn an equal amount of self doubt within the angel himself. He no longer trusted that he could make the right call. Without saying anything more Castiel got up and left the room. Metatron smiled to himself, he could read the angel like a book. He knew he wouldn’t be spending much more time in that small cell.  
  
Hannah followed Castiel out of the room.  
“What are you going to do?” She asked.  
“I don’t know, I really don’t like the idea of Metatron loose in the human world,” he said.  
“But if he was to fall, without his grace he would be next to harmless,” she suggested.  
“I don’t think we should ever consider Metatron harmless,” he responded.  
“There is something else to consider, another benefit to letting him fall, aside from the information.” Hannah added. Cas was unsure of what she was referring to.  
“What?” He asked.  
“He is a powerful angel, his grace; it could sustain you, indefinitely. I can see you’re just about running on empty as it is Castiel and you haven’t even begun to look for your  grace.” Cas could see she had a point.  
“I hadn’t considered that. See this is the reason I’m glad to have you by my side,” he commented.  
“So you will take the deal?” She pushed.  
“I will need to think on it further.” He replied.  
“What is there to think about? You get your info and his grace,” she tried again.  
“I must return to the Winchesters, seek their advice also.” Hannah gave him a hurt look. “I am confidant Heaven is in good hands, thank you Hannah.” He added.

 

Dean had barely spoken a word since Faith had rejoined them after Castiel’s departure. The three of them had begun to comb through files, in the hope there was something they had missed the first time round. But as time passed, Dean found it harder and harder to concentrate and had eventually abandoned the research altogether. He sat on the edge of the bed playing with the First Blade. Sam and Faith exchanged concerned looks before, finally, Faith addressed Dean.  
“I’ve been thinking,” she began. Dean didn’t look up from the Blade. “Maybe we should stow that knife, you know for safe keeping.” Dean still did look up as he spoke.  
“It is safe right here.” He replied.  
“Right, yeah, it is,” she said. “But you see, I can drain you and that’s great, but here’s thing, that bone, it feeds you. It takes your darkness and builds on it. I’d probably have to drain you less often if we were to separate you two,” she attempted.  
“I said, it’s safe where it is,” he said, still not meeting her gaze.  
“She might have a point, Dean,” Sam said stepping in. “I don’t see any harm in moving the Blade, at least out of the trap. Give you a little breathing room.”  
“You don’t see any harm? Really Sam, Your track record for not seeing any harm is pretty piss poor, don’t you think.” Dean snapped, finally looking up. Dean’s eyes were jet black. For the first time Sam met his brothers demonic alter ego. “That’s what you said when you started chugging down demon juice.” He got up and paced the inside of the trap. “Is that what you said after you had your first premonition of sweet Jessica’s fiery death. ‘Oh I see no harm in this, let’s just leave her alone and head off on a road trip with my big bro.‘” Sam’s heart ached to see Dean like this and to hear the words spurting from his mouth. Dean knew all the buttons to push to really dig in deep to Sam’s guilt. He was both speechless and terrified. “Seriously Sam, do you think I would ever take advice from you. You are nothing but one screw up after another. I mean, come on Sam, you have caused more of the evil in this world than you could make up for in a dozen lifetimes,” Dean hissed. He was so focused on verbally abusing the giant man-child in front of him, that he didn't noticed Faith approach him from the side and gently lay her hand on the back of his neck. It was like she had hit an off switch. Dean blinked as if he was just waking up and his eyes returned to their natural green.  
“Crap Sam. I’m sorry,” Dean said immediately as Faith fell to the floor.  
“What the hell?” Sam said. “Is she ok?” he asked, ignoring Dean’s apology. Dean crouched next to her.  
“Its normal, I think, she should be okay in a minute,” Dean answered. But this time it was different, she could feel it.  
While she was fighting to gain control of the new evil she had just taken from Dean, she felt a second evil attack her from within. Alistair was using all of his strength to reach outside of her soul. She felt her grip on him slip, just for a moment, but it was long enough for Alistair, with one final push, to take over and manage to speak through her. Her mouth but his voice addressed Dean.  
“Hello Grasshopper,” he whispered before Faith succeeded in throwing him back into his cell.  
“What did she say?” Sam asked.  
“I don’t know, I couldn’t make it out, something about grass maybe,” Dean replied. Faith was pulling herself up onto Dean’s bed with Sam watching, concerned as her eyes flashed black before returning to normal.  
“Are you ok?” Sam asked.  
“That wasn’t like last time,” Dean added. “Did your inmate break loose?” Faith shook her head.  
“I think maybe we just left it too long, you were pretty far gone this time,” She suggested.  
“Or we didn’t leave it long enough,” Dean added grimly. “Maybe we didn’t give you enough time to recharge.” Faith rested her elbow on her knees, supporting her head in her hands.  
“Either way, Dean, it only proves my point. The Blade, its gotta go.” Sam looked at her as if she was insane. She was on the wrong side of the trap to be bringing up this topic again. Dean silently looked at the Blade still in his hand and without turning around he held it out to Sam.  
“Take it Sam, before I change my mind.” Sam grabbed it without saying a word, in shock as to how easy that was. “There should be a curse box in storage. Bring it up here, we can store it in that, but it stays here, where I can keep an eye on it,” Dean ordered, Sam looked to Faith who nodded in agreement. When his brother was gone Dean spoke.  
“So what really happened back there?”  
“What do you mean?” She answered, fanning ignorance.  
“Oh come on don’t try and play me. You lost control, maybe only for a second but it happened none the less,” he pressed.  
“Yeah, ok I did but it’s sorted now. He is back where he needs to be and burnt out. I’m pretty sure he just spent the bulk of the strength he had, he doesn’t have it in him to try again,” she said, doing her best to sound confident even though the experience had scared the crap out of her.  
Dean didn’t buy or share in her false confidence; he had heard what the demon had said loud and clear. He was sure he knew who was riding shot gun in her soul. To Faiths relief, Sam’s return put an end to their conversation. He had the curse box and made a show of putting the Blade inside and placed it on a shelf in clear view of Dean. Faith stood.  
“If it’s okay with you two, I’m going to find an empty room in this maze and sleep for a few days.” She exited the room before Dean could question her any further.  
“Sam, what I said back there, you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m so sorry,” Dean said earnestly.  
“I do and it’s okay. Look we’ve dealt with enough demons to know they go for the jugular every time whether it’s true or not.“ Sam replied, letting his brother know that it was water under the bridge.  
Castiel appeared in the doorway.  
“Sam, a word,” was all he said and was gone off down the corridor. Sam gave Dean an apologetic glance and followed the angel. Dean rolled his eyes in frustration.  
“This is total bull,” he said to himself.  
  
Cas waited for Sam in the study. “What is it?” Sam asked, joining him.  
“I need your advice,” the angel replied.  
“Ok, well that’s a first,” Sam remarked.  
“Yes, I am trying to not repeat past mistakes and in the absence of your brother I figured you to be the next obvious candidate.”  
“Nice Cas, thanks,” Sam replied sarcastically.  
“You’re welcome,” he responded, obliviously. “Faith's angel is missing and her soul is weakening,” he began.  
“I think we may have just witnessed that first hand,” Sam said. “I’m not sure but it was like her prisoner took control and spoke through her, just now when she defused Dean,” he explained.  
“What did she say, Sam? Did Dean hear? This is important,” Cas asked panicked.  
“I couldn’t make it out, it was pretty muffled, and I don’t think Dean could either. Why?” Sam asked.  
“It Alistair, her inmate is Alistair,” he admitted.  
“What?” Sam replied. “What the hell?” He asked clearly rattled. “It took everything I had to and a boat load of demon blood to put him down and now you are telling me he’s here, in the bunker, the only thing between us and him is a weakened Oubliette,” he said furious.  
“I am aware the situation is less than favourable. That is why I returned to Heaven, to see if I could locate her angel,” Castiel said.  
“And?”  
“And, nothing, I’m afraid,” Cas stated. “However I do have another option, I’m just not sure if it is the right thing to do,” he explained.  
“What you got?” Sam asked, leaning against the table behind him. The angel shifted uncomfortably.  
“Metatron,” he answered.  
“Metatron?” Sam repeated.  
“Yes, I have him imprisoned in Heaven and I an almost sure he has information that I need on Oubliettes.”  
“Wait, what? Metatron’s alive? He should be dead. You have him in Heaven and he is still kicking. What the hell Cas? He killed Dean, he's pretty much instrumental in turning him in to a frickin’ Knight of Hell, and you let him live,” Sam yelled, outraged at the angel’s actions.  
“I agree with you Sam. But it is more complicated than that. My fellow angels needed to see I was no longer the wrathful Castiel of previous times. To maintain order I had to allow him to live,” Cas pleaded for Sam to understand.  
“So he’ll rot in a Heavenly cell for an eternity, that’s something I suppose. “ Sam said spitefully.  
“That’s the thing,” Cas began “Faith cannot continue to help Dean without the possibility of completely losing control herself. That would more than likely allow Alistair to gain to upper hand. I need the information Metatron has but he will only give it to me at a price,” Cas said, knowing Sam was not going to be happy. “He wants me to allow him to fall.”  
“No frickin’ way,” Sam replied immediately.  
“Sam, think about this. We need to find Faith's angel or we have no hope of saving Dean.” Sam paced the room.  
“This is insane, I can’t believe we are even considering making a deal with that douche.”  
“There is more,” Cas pressed on eager to get all the bad news out of the way.  
”Of course there is,” Sam said wearily.  
“My stolen grace, it is almost spent. If Metatron was to fall I could take and use his. It is strong enough to power me indefinitely.”  
“Holy Crap, it's never simple, is it?” Sam said.  
“No, I believe it never is,” Cas confirmed. “What should I do?” Sam continued to walk the room, running everything through his head.  
“I hate this, but its simple; if the roles were reversed Dean would do whatever he had to, to fix me. I have to do the same. If we don’t take the deal and we could end up fighting against a demon Dean and Alistair too.” Sam frowned “We need to get you and Faith both back up to full power if we have a chance of cleaning up this mess. And if that means letting Metatron walk, I really don’t think we have a choice. No matter how much of a bad taste it will leave in our mouths we have got to take the deal,” he confirmed.

Dean, alone in the room had nothing better to do but to run through the last forty eight hours again and again. They had been up against the wall before, but this situation, from every angle, looked hopeless. The guilt of what he had said to Sam, also sat heavy on his chest, but yet still he found his gaze drawn time and again to the curse box that housed his Blade. He missed it, regretted giving it up and desperately wanted it back in his hand where it belonged. Although it was only a few feet away, with the devils trap between him and it, it may as well still been at the bottom of the ocean.  
“How’s my favourite Knight doing?” Crowley asked causing Dean to jump.  
“You have some nerve showing up here, you son of a bitch,” Dean snapped.  
“As I tried to explain earlier Dean, I'm here to help you.” Crowley walked to the edge of the trap. “Looks like you could certainly use some, no Knight of mine should be penned in like this,” he said, motioning to the large circle yet doing nothing about it. “You know, that brother of yours had me searching high and low for you and never had the good manners to let me know that he managed to find you himself. That’s just rude, wouldn’t you say?” The demon ventured.  
“What the hell do you want, Crowley?” Dean demanded, already annoyed by his presence.  
“Isn’t it obvious? I guess not, becoming a knight didn’t make you any less stupid. It’s you I want, ya idjit,” he said mockingly.  
“Don’t you dare…,” Dean threatened but Crowley interrupted.  
“Too much, I know. I knew it myself as soon as I said it,” he admitted. Crowley looked Dean up and down, a confused look suddenly on his face. “Hold up. What the hell is wrong with you? You should be rabid by now. How are you still…, well, you?” He asked.  
“Who the hell are you?” Faith demanded from behind him. Crowley spun around and smiled.  
“The King of Hell, my dear. Save your introductions, I don’t care who you are. But my friend here could use a play thing; it must be getting pretty lonely inside that trap.” He said as he grabbed Faith by her hair and attempting to throw her to Dean. Her hand instinctively went to his, trying to prevent him from tearing her hair out at the root. As soon as she made contact with him, Crowley drew back. “What in the name of all things unholy are you?” He yelped before retreating back to hell, not waiting for a response.


	2. Chapter 2

 

“What? So now Crowley can just pop in and out of the bunker anytime he feels like it,” Sam snapped. “This place is supposed to be secure.” He stood, impatiently and wearily rubbing his face. “Right, I guess I had better go lock this place down. The last thing we need is another impromptu visit from that bastard,” He said angrily as he left to check and redo the warding sigils across the entire bunker.  
“He is just tired,” Faith commented, seeing how concerned and frustrated Dean was.  
“He’s pissed,” He corrected. “I mean, I can’t blame him, his brother is now the one of the big bad he’s has spent his entire life putting down,”  
“Between us, we have the experience, the tools and the blind stupidity to fix all this,” Faith said, attempting to reassure him. Dean looked up at Faith and said:  
“I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but thank you for everything you are doing for us. I mean, you don’t know us from Adam and you’ve just put your life on hold for a demon, an angel and a cranky giant.” Faith smiled and gave a small laugh before she replied.  
“Oubliettes, we are all about duty, it’s a part of us. We are born lucky; for the most part, live uneventful but charmed lives. Besides we know, from the get go, who put us here and why. There is no doubt, no existential questions. We do what we have to do because no one else can and because not doing it isn’t an option,” she explained.  
“And you’re okay with that?” Dean questioned. “Just doing what’s needed, regardless.”  
“Pretty much. Look at it this way, my soul and its memories have been around for give or take sixty lifetimes. About fifty of which have passed off without a hitch. That’s good innings if you ask me,” she explained.  
“And the ten that didn’t?” Dean asked pessimistically. “What went wrong with them.”  
“Humans mostly, oppression, wars, crusades, that sort thing. Couple of natural disasters too,” she replied  
“So, nothing like this then, Knights of Hell, inmates popping up for a chat?” Dean quizzed.  
“No, I gotta say this is a first, but then again so were the witch trials,” she replied with a toothy grin. Faith was playing a good game, but if she was honest she would have told Dean that she was pretty shaken up. However, thanks to Alistair, she knew these boys well enough to know that they were capable of overcoming almost anything, no matter how the odds were stacked against them. No matter how bad it got, she wasn’t going to abandon them, she was seeing this to the end. She tossed him a stack a folders. “Enough of this chit-chat. Make yourself useful,” she said.

Castiel had returned once again to Heaven and had Metatron brought to him.  
“I’m willing to accept your offer,” The angel stated. Metatron did his best to seem surprised but found it hard to stifle his smile.  
“I’m glad you have seen sense, Castiel,” he answered.  
“You must understand, if I feel you have held anything back or lied to me in any way our deal is null and void,” Cas said.  
“Castiel, you have to understand, I want out of here, that’s it. I have no hidden agenda. There is no reason I would lie to you at this point. You’ve won, Heaven is yours. All I want now is to go back to how I once lived. A comfy chair and all the books I can read. That is it, nothing more,” Metatron claimed.  
“So, how do I track an angel without their true name?” Cas asked.  
“You can't simple as that,” Metatron began. “But if you have the angels Oubliette in your back pocket, its soul can tell you the given name of the angel charged to guard them; it is etched into the very soul itself.” He paused but Cas knew well enough to interrupt the egotistical angel, who liked nothing more than the sound of his own voice. As Metatron continued it was clear that this time it was working to Castiel’s advantage. “But what you have to realise is that the angel itself is nothing more than a run of the mill angel, without the stone gifted to it by God. Each angel received a different type of stone, seven Oubliettes, seven angels, seven stones. It’s all very Hans Christian Andersen, I know but that’s how it is.”  
  
“These stones, how do they work?” Castiel asked.  
“The stones, they link everything. The angel to the stone; the stone to the Oubliette. You find the angel you will find the stone and vice versa.” He seemed to think on something for a second before continuing. “If your angel is missing, it doesn’t bode well for either of them. These angels are chosen for their unparalleled loyalty and duty. They would not abandon their post willingly, not even if their lives depended on it. If, worst case scenario, the angel is no more then you have to find the stone, without it the Oubliette is screwed.” He leaned back in his chair. Leaving the floor open for questions.  
“If I can’t find the stone, what do you mean by ‘screwed’?” Castiel questioned.  
“Depends, if they haven’t received a new inmate during this lifetime, not much. Death, painful but fairly quick.”  
“And if they have a relatively new inmate?” Cas cut in.  
“Well that’s a different kettle of fish altogether. The prisoner will drain the Oubliette of every last bit of its power. It is unable to possess the host for anymore than a couple of minutes. Their souls have warding to prevent such a thing happening, so it will be expelled back into the world.” Metatron clapped his hands on the arms of the chair. “This is all theoretical of course; it has never happen before so we can’t be sure what will happen. One thing I know for sure, if it does make it out, it won’t come out weak, it will have absorbed the Oubliettes power. Even with what little is left it will be more than enough juice to fully charge up what ever monster making its escape.”  
Castiel frowned but asked no further questions. Metatron killed the silence by adding. “That, my dear friend, is everything I know. God never spoke more on the subject, aware of how important it was that their powers and their identities remained secret.”  
  
Castiel, rightly or wrongly, believed that the angel had indeed told him everything. “Okay. I will allow you to fall but on Heavens terms, not yours.” He rose and stood next to the seated Metatron. “First, your grace.” He said as he drew his angel blade and ran it gingerly across the scribe’s neck, collecting the glowing grace that seeped out into a vile. After which he laid his hand over the incision and healed it, just as Metatron had done for him. Placing the vile in his coat pocket he stepped back and opened the door behind him. A waiting angel entered the room.  
“This is Thomas.” Cas introduced.  
Without speaking a word Thomas stepped forward and placed his hand on Metatron’s chest. Pain, a pain entirely new to him, a human pain tore through his chest. Metatron let out a roar of agony. A moment later Thomas removed his hand but the pain lingered. The scribe shot both Cas and Thomas an angry look, but said nothing.  
“Thomas is now linked to you, he can track your every move and will check in on you anytime we see fit,” Cas explained.  
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Metatron complained. Castiel leaned over him threateningly.  
“Mark my words. If you put a step wrong you will find yourself back in your cell quicker than you can blink.” He turned to Thomas. “You may take him now and set him free,” He commanded. Then to the newly human Marv, he advised. “Take it from me; humans are intrinsically good but also tainted with the capacity to do evil. Seek out the good if you want to survive.”  
Marv didn’t respond as Tomas placed a hand on his shoulder and they both disappeared. Castiel stood alone for a moment, self doubt creeping back in, before Hannah entered the room.  
  
“You’ve done the right thing.” She assured him. “With Metatron’s grace you will now be strong enough to lead Heaven.” Castiel looked troubled.  
“That’s not what I want, Hannah. And I don’t believe I am the leader that Heaven needs, not right now,” He confided. Hannah looked at Castiel in disbelief.  
“What are you saying?” she asked.  
“It needs to be you. Someone who is singular in their objectives. You are honourable and incorruptible. It should be you,” He said placing a hand on her shoulder. “I have to focus my time and energy on the Winchesters and earth; you take control of Heaven, fix all this and bring our brothers and sisters home.” Hannah could see that Castiel truly believed what he was saying and accepted her new role willingly.  
“What about you?” She asked. “You need to take Metatron grace. I can see how weak you are.”  
“I will,” he promised. “But not yet, not until I have no other choice,” he explained. “I need to return to Earth. You will do great things here in Heaven; I have more faith in you than in any other angel.”

Faith had left Dean in search of Sam, waiting to help with the bunker lock down. She found him in the library, leaning over a large book laid open on the desk. “How are you getting on?” She asked.  
“Well, I’m pretty sure I figured out how Crowley has been getting past the wardings.” He held out his hand to show her four ancient looking coins. “I found one in each corner of the bunker.” He then pointed to the book open in front of him. “Its old magic, like a mix of woodoo and witch craft, only way older than both, most probably a common ancestor of each. According to this, these have the power to void all the wardings we have.” He informed her. “Crowley must have stashed them here when he was helping us to get rid of Gadreel.” He added.  
“Hold up. One, who is Gadreel and two, Crowley? That short sleazy demon from before was helping you?” She asked confused. Through Alistair she knew a lot of the boy’s history, but only up to a point. Over the past two days she had picked up tit bits on Abbadon, Metatron and Cain but there were still a lot of blanks they hadn’t gotten around to filling in.  
“He will have to explain that to you later.” Castiel said materialising next to them. “I have new information.”  
They rejoined Dean before Cas began to recount what he had learnt.  
“I can retrieve your angel’s name and with that I can find her location.” He said careful not to mention Metatron’s involvement in front of Dean. He wasn’t happy keeping the secret but both Sam and Faith had convinced him that withholding this information was in Dean’s best interest.  
“That’s great news.” Faith replied relieved. However the angel did not look as happy about it as Faith was.  
“Yes it is and no it isn’t.” Cas replied. “The true or given name of your angel is inscribed on your soul. I need to read it and to do that I need to touch it.” he said grimly. Both the Winchesters signed, obviously not over the moon with what the angel had just suggested.  
“Ok, I can’t say I’m too encouraged by that response,” she said picking up on the boys trepidation.  
“I have done this before, successfully,” Cas stated trying to assure her. “However, it is never a pleasant experience. It shall be, in fact, quite painful for you,” he added.  
“Well whatever you do, don’t sugar-coat it for me,” she said, attempting to lighten the tension in the room. Unfortunately, the angel once again, failed to pick up on the human tendency for sarcasm.  
“Your soul is much more powerful than any I have encounter before, I will need to force my way in, add in the fact that I need to get in and out without making contact with your inmate, it could get very dangerous indeed,” he added bluntly.  
“Shit,” she said and stood up and left the room as the three men exchanged confused glances.  
“She told me not to sugar-coat it,” Cas said in his defence.  
“She might just need a minute to, you know, to process it all,” Dean said, in answer to the angel. A moment later she returned with a bottle of whiskey.  
“Courage in a bottle,” she explained light heartedly. She opened it and necked a good couple of inches from it. “Right, if we are going to do this, let’s get cracking,” she added before taking another large swig. Between the exhaustion, the lack of food and another two hits from the bottle, her head was swimming as Castiel positioned her in the chair and stood over her. His unreadable face bringing her no comfort. She closed her eyes and braced herself, gripping the arms of the chair in anticipation. Castiel placed his hand just below her rib and whispered to her.  
“I’m sorry.” Faith didn’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t what followed. A blinding light spilled from where Castiel’s hand had inexplicably vanished into her abdomen, but the light was paled by the searing pain that accompanied it. Her nails dug deep into the wooden chair and if the agony had not robbed her of command of the rest of her body she would have fled. The pain continued to build, at each point Faith swore to herself that it could not get any worse but each time the intensity grew until finally, mercifully she passed out.  
Castiel wasn’t fairing any better. Her soul was stronger than any he had attempted to touch before and still running on his quickly depleting stolen grace he was struggling to breach it. It was only after Faith was out cold that he was able to reach inside, locate and read the inscription. He gingerly attempted to withdraw his hand but before he was able to fully extract it, he felt something latch on to it.  
“Hello Castiel. Good to see you again, old friend.” Alistair spoke directly into his mind. “I know now. I know what Dean has become. Under my instruction in hell he showed such promise. But you, you stole him from me. I was angry for so long but now I see it was fate, under your protection he has become so much more than I could have ever hoped. When I get out of here, I will finish the job we both had a hand in. He will be unparalleled in all of history. The world will fall before him, feared by Heaven, worshiped by Hell. And I, I will sit at his right hand.” Castiel heard no more, falling to the floor, finally free of Alistair’s grip and Faith’s soul. Both he and Faith had blood falling from their mouth and nose. His attempt to wipe his clean left a ghoulish red smudge across his face. Sam was at Faiths side checking for a pulse. Dean spoke to Cas from inside the trap.  
“You okay Buddy?” He asked. Cas seemed confused and still out of it. “Cas!” Dean yelled concerned for his friend.  
“I have a name, Laylah.” He dragged himself across the floor to Faith and again laid his hand on her chest. A very faint light passed between them. “She will be okay.” He said before he too passed out.  
  
  
The angel, know as Francis, sat helplessly in the chair, secured at his hands, feet and chest by leather straps with Enochian sigils burnt into them. Around his forehead was a metal brace with guide holes running along the centre. Crowley stood before him, a long silver needle in his hand. The King carefully selected a hole and slowly drove pointed metal through the angel’s skull and deep into his brain. The angel briefly screamed in pain but stopped abruptly as Crowley tweaked the position of the needle. Crowley was enjoying himself for the first time in days and as a result chatted to the trapped angel incessantly.  
  
“You see. I’m never one to miss out on an opportunity. So when suddenly earth was overrun with lost and confused angels, well of course I picked myself up a half dozen or so. Easy pickings too.” He said, lining up another needle and inserting it a few holes away from the first. He waited patiently for the angel to finish screaming before he continued. “You lot, out of your comfort zone, you can be so naïve, downright gullible.” He picked up a third needle and entered the angels from the opposite side of his head. “Burned through the first two or three pretty quickly, embarrassingly so, to be honest. Honing my craft, I suppose.” He said, excusing his failures. “I was pretty sure I had it all figured out, that was until your friend over there.” He motioned to a headless body dumped in the corner. “Well her head, it just went pop!” He twisted the latest needle until he was happy with its position. “Damn near wet my pants, I don’t mind telling you. I’ve never seen anything like it. It literally, went pop, no exaggeration.” He repeated jovially. “Anyway she had just finished explaining to me what she knew about Oubliettes. Not a hell of a lot but more than I did. Let’s find out if you know any more, shall we?” He knew now that if he ever wanted Dean Winchester to reach his full potential he needed to separate him from their new toy. Once they were apart, nature would be allowed to take its proper course. Crowley added another needle and twisted it but was still startled when the angel finally began speaking. Robotically he repeated, over and over again. “Metatron has fallen.”  
“What?” Crowley laughed. “Oh, Castiel, you are the only angel stupid enough to allow the Scribe of God to fall. Well, Heavens loss is Hells gain.” He said as he reached for another needle. “It seems my Christmas list is growing longer by the second. First Dean, then an Oubliette and now a Scribe.” He selected a hole for the needle and stared to push it in. Half way through there was a loud popping sound and Crowley was covered from head to toe in exploded angel head. “Totally worth it,” he scoffed as he scooped angel matter from his eyes.

  
Sam had moved both Cas and Faith to another room to rest up. They had both been asleep for hours before Castiel was the first to regain consciousness. He joined Sam in the study, who had found he was looking for any excuse to not be alone with Dean. Even calm and drained the subtle differences in his brother unnerved him more and more. Had Bobby still been around he would have likened his reaction to Dean’s to soulless Sam.  
Cas stumbled across the room, he looked terrible, his face grey and his eyes sunken. Sam was shocked at the angel’s appearance.  
“No offence Cas, but you look like crap,” he said.  
“I don’t know how not to take offence to that,” Cas replied.  
“Sorry, I just mean, you have Metatron’s grace, why suffer like this? Why not just boost the batteries?” Sam questioned.  
“I will, just not yet,” the angel replied.  
“If not now, when? Seriously we could use you at full power just about now,” Sam suggested.  
“I will use it when I have to, Sam, I’m fine,” Cas snapped, still supporting himself against the table.  
“Yeah. Obviously,” Sam snapped back. He was stick to death of people in his life telling him they were fine when the contrary was blatantly evident.  
“I’m sorry,” Cas said. “It’s just not that simple. The last time I let something more powerful than me in, well, we all know that didn’t end well at all,” he admitted.  
“Come on Cas, that was different, the Levitations, they were pure evil and there were thousands of them. Metatron might be a total douche but at his core he is, was an angel,” Sam said attempting to convince him.  
“I suspect what you are saying to be true, but how can we be certain. What if we are wrong again? Do you think the Winchester Brothers are in a position to take down a rogue angel, right now?”  
Sam was interrupted before he could respond by loud crash from the direction of Dean’s room. He took off immediately, Castiel unable to keep up, hobbled slowly behind him. When Sam entered the room there was a chair in pieces next to him on the floor. He looked at Dean, whose eyes were jet black once again, however when he spoke his voice was steady and calm.  
  
“Hey little brother. I’ve been thinking, this whole situation is getting bit ridicules, isn’t it. I mean, you keep getting that preachy bitch to drain me but I just keep coming right back. Why don’t we just accept that this is who I am now?” He held out his arms, both fists clenched and did a little twirl. “We could have some fun with it. We could totally ‘Running Man’ this thing. You could let me go, I’ll be generous and give you a day’s head start before I hunt you down and gut you.” He threatened, placing his hands behind his back. Sam said nothing, still horrified at the sight his brother, the Knight. “No? Okay then, how about we start smaller?” He continued. “My Blade, take her out of that stupid trinket box and toss her back in here to me. What possible harm can I do with it in this trap, you have nothing to lose,” he suggested. Sam shook his head in disbelief.  
“You really think that that is going to happen, Dean?” He asked.  
“Oh, come on Sammy, you and I, if nothing else, we have always been each others enablers. How about this then? I’ll give you, what I know you still desperately crave and in return you give me what I crave, my Blade,” he teased.  
“Seriously Dean, you have nothing I need,” Sam replied defiantly.  
“Is that so?” Dean said, as he stepped to the edge of the trap. Sam resisted the urge to retreat a step or two in response. Almost face to face Dean looked his brother in the eye. “Is that what you think?” He whispered. Without hesitation his arms swung from behind his back, he opened his still clenched fists and threw two handfuls of his blood, demon blood directly into Sam’s face, splashing across and into his open shocked mouth. Dean laughed hysterically holding up his hands to show two large cuts across his palms. Sam stumbled back, spitting what he could out on to the floor before wiping his mouth.  
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam stuttered.  
“Come on, Sammy. It’s your turn now. Do you brother a solid and give me back my Blade,” Dean said still smiling.  
“You’re no brother of mine,” Sam spat as he stormed from the room, running into Cas, who had only just managed to catch up, as he exited.  
“Ah, Sammy, don’t be like that.” Dean shouted after him, filling the bunker with maniacal laughter.  
  
Sam paused half way down the corridor, he was livid. He waited for Castiel to catch up to him. “We have to stop this!” He said.  
“We’re working on it, Sam. Now that we have the angel’s name I can locate her. Then we…” Castiel began but Sam cut him off.  
“Then what? We keep Faith powered up enough to drain Dean every time he goes dark? All we are doing is putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. It’s not enough.” He looked at Cas. “Just how long do you think we can keep this up for?” He asked.  
“It will give us time, time to find a long term solution.” Cas said.  
“But that’s just it, Cas.” Sam explained. “We already have a solution. We have been dancing around it for days now. I can cure him,” Sam suggested. Castiel knew this was coming sooner or later. Before he could respond, Dean shouted after them.  
  
“Yeah, great plan Sammy, caused that worked really well on Crowley. Could be a lot of fun though, one brother, a demon hopped up on human blood. The other, a human hopped up on demon blood. We could spend the rest of our days feeding off of each other.” Sam turned and silently marched back into Dean’s room. “But that’s just it Sam, there would be no rest of days for you. Curing me will kill you. How do you think dear old human Dean would feel knowing you died because of him?” He mocked.  
“You and I both know that he would be ok with it. I would rather be dead that leave Dean as this monster,” Sam remarked.  
“Oh be careful Sam, you’ll hurt my feelings. Regardless what you think, I am still your bother, just better, stronger, unburdened. Plus who says I can be cured, I’m so much more than a cross roads demon. I’m pretty confident that the process would kill you long before you managed to but a dent in the new me,” he speculated. “It’s the mark, Sam. I’m no run of the mill demon like Crowley, stronger by far than Abbadon. I am the Father of Murder, mainlining your weak ass blood will do jack shit.” He paused and smiled to himself. “But don’t let that stop you, give it your best shot, see how it plays out. It will save me having to come back and kill you later.” Sam left the room, unable to listen to the mocking tone of his once brothers voice any longer. Cas followed him, shooting Dean a sad helpless look as he left.  
  
“Sam, he’s not wrong, it will kill you and we don’t know for sure if it will even work.” the angel confirmed.  
“It doesn’t matter, Cas, if this was the other way around, he would have already done the same for me, and he would never have let it go on for this long,” Sam shouted at the angel.  
“Okay, say you do try this and you fail, with you dead there is no one left on earth that would be able to put him down.” Cas turned and looked sharply at Sam. “I know it’s unthinkable but if it comes to it, it will have to be you.” Cas said doing his best to sound confident in what he was saying.  
“There would be you,” Sam replied. Cas turned away, worried Sam would see the doubt in his eyes.  
“Yes, I suppose there would.” Cas replied noncommittally.  
“Let’s just stow the kamikaze mission until we have exhausted all other possibilities.” Sam didn’t answer. “When was the last time you slept?” Cas asked. Again Sam didn’t respond. “Go, get some rest. I’ll watch over Dean. You are no good to anyone ‘burnt out’ as you put it,” he suggested.  
“Neither are you,” was Sam’s only reply before he silently headed off in the direction of his room, still not convinced that there was anotheroption.  
  
  
Metatron, or Marv as he was now called, wasn’t enjoying being a human at all. It had only been a couple of days since his fall, but without his grace and a plethora of new and some what unexpected human needs, things had progressively gone from bad to worse. His first stop had been a sleaze bar.  
There, ill prepared for the affects of alcohol on his newly mortal body, he had, after three or four drinks, unwittingly procured himself a few hours of time with an overly friendly woman named Crystal. Crystal had then quickly unburdened the once Scribe of God of the small amount of money he had to his name and left him passed out and unsullied on the floor of a dirty hotel room. He awoke, nursing his first hanger over and promising himself would that it would be his last.  
Broke and hungry he had then attempted to steal food from local Gas N’ Sip, only to be caught by a shop attendant, who clearly believed in his own swift punishment over that of the local law enforcement.  
He now sat penniless and bleeding under an overpass doing his best to stay dry and not think about how incredibly cold and frighten he was. He had made a terrible mistake, he knew that now, he wasn’t cut out for life as a human. Earth always seemed like a fine place to him but that had been when he was an angel and needed for nothing more than another story to read. Now there was so much more on the list of growing needs that came ahead of that. Food, shelter, security, a toilet and other things he never had to think about before. Now every noise frightened him, the darkness promised nothing but pain and fear. He spent the night huddled under the bridge too afraid to sleep, staring into the distance, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. However, when a figure did appear from the darkness, he froze, unable to move or flee.  
“It’s not that easy to be a human, is it? This tiny blue planet can seem so unimaginably large when you don’t have any wings,” the stranger said, stepping out of the shadows. “The name is Crowley; I don’t believe we’ve met.”  
  
  
Cas left Sam to himself and went to check in on Faith. The sound of the door opening woke her and she sat up slowly in the bed. To her surprise she felt okay and well rested.  
“You look confused,” the angel remarked.  
“Yeah, a little,” she answered. “I don’t feel like crap. How long have I been out?” She asked.  
“A little over twelve hours,” he replied.  
“Holy Crap. Did it work? Did you get a name?” Faith asked expectantly.  
“Yes, I did, Laylah,” he said.  
“Laylah, huh, suits her,” she said with a smile. It was then she noticed the shouting. “What the hell is that? What’s going on?” She asked.  
“Dean,” the angel replied. “I know you’ve only just woken up but he is in need of your help.”  
“Oh right, yeah, of course,” she said getting up and heading straight for Dean’s room. His shouts continued, threats to kill, each of them rang out through the bunker.  
  
Entering the room she could see that Dean was near rabid. Everything that had been inside the circle with him had been torn up and smashed to pieces. He paced inside the trap like a caged lion. Blood and spit pooled in the corners of his mouth. He was sick, fully in the throws of withdrawal from his Blade and his overpowering bloodlust. When he saw Faith, he retreated, attempting to maintain a distance between them. Every step she took he countered in the opposite. He was so fixated on the Oubliette that he didn’t notice Cas flank him. The angel grabbed him from behind, throwing his arms around the chest, holding him in place, forcing Deans hands down to his sides.  
“Now, Faith! I won’t be able to hold him for long,” Cas said urgently. She stepped forward into the trap.  
“Get the hell away from me you stupid whore. When I get out of here, you are going to be the first I send to hell,” Dean promised. Ignoring him, she placed her hand gently across his cheek. Both Dean and Faith fell to their knees in unison as Castiel released his grip. Faith never allowing the contact between them to be broken, not until she saw the last of the black empty from his eyes. Dean felt the sickness leave him first, then the anger and finally the hate subsided. He watched helplessly as Faith fell to the floor and battled against his darkness and finally growing still. He gave her a moment before helping her up, careful not to make any contact with her bare skin.  
Once upright, she stumbles out of the trap and over to the corner of the room, where she doubled over and violently vomited thick dark red blood. Wiping her mouth she looked up to see both Dean and Cas staring at her with concern. Cas approached her with the intent of healing what ever physical damage had been done but she held up her hand to keep him at bay.  
“No Castiel,” she said. “I’ll be fine, save your strength,” the angel ignored her and placed his hand on her forehead.  
“Let’s meet half way,” he said, only partially healing her. Dean had remained silent, she looked over at him.  
“You okay Dean?” She asked him. He was racked with guilt, felt truly awful for what he had done to his brother. He shook his head.  
“Sam?” He asked.  
“Sleeping,” Cas answered.  
“Is he okay?” Dean asked, his voice resounding with dread.  
“He is fine, frustrated with the situation, but he is fine,” the angel confirmed. Faith still used the wall to support herself despite Cas having healed her.  
“Sorry to change the subject, but my angel, you have a name, can you find her?” She asked. She wasn’t ready to admit it but the last draining had significantly weakened her and she could sense that Alistair was regaining his within her.  
“Already done,” he replied. “I gave her name to Hannah as soon as I had it. She has come back to me with a location; Dublin; Ireland.” He said, releived to have some good news to share. “If I am not needed here I will go and search for her.” He suggested. Faith smiled feebly.  
“Yes, go, Dean and I, we’re both good.” She glanced at the Winchester. “Right?” She asked. He looked up at her.  
“Yeah, we’re good.” He replied quietly, the angel looked at Dean unconvinced but disappeared anyway.  
  
  
Castiel reappeared in a small side street. He was exhausted. His hand went to Metatron’s grace, but he shook his head in response to some unspoken question and walked from the alley on to a busy street lined with shops and apartments. Tucked in between an upmarket coffee shop and a trendy clothes store was an ancient church. Castiel always liked Ireland, a perfect mix of the old and the new living side by side without question.  
He pulled open the large wooden church doors and entered. He stood for a moment enjoying the peace and reverence of the building before he was approached by a priest.  
“Welcome friend, can I help to you at all?” He asked. Castiel had his story ready.  
“Hello Father, my name is Reverend James O’Sullivan of the Cathedral of St.Joseph’s, South Dakota,” he introduced himself.  
“Well then, welcome to Dublin, Reverend. I’m Father Murphy. What has you so far from home?” He asked warmly.  
“I’m looking for a parishioner of mine; she went missing nearly a year ago. She was last seen in this area and was quite devote. It is likely she would have stopped by here,” Castiel explained.  
“We do get a number of Americans stopping in, finding their roots and what not. If you have a name or a photograph I could try to help.” He asked.  
“She could have been going by either Sarah or Laylah,” Cas replied. The priests face dropped and he blessed himself.  
“Are you one too?” he asked.  
“One what?” Castiel replied. Father Murphy put his hand into his pocket and withdrew a bottle of holy water, which he splashed across the angels face.  
“No Father, I am not a demon. I work for Heaven, my name is Castiel, I am an angel,” he informed him.  
“As was your friend Laylah,“ the priest replied.  
“Was?” Cas asked frowning.  
“Please come with me,” he answered and led Castiel to the Sacristy.  
When they had both entered, he closed the door and locked it behind them. “I am sorry to tell you that your friend passed away. She had been mortally wounded when she made her way into my church looking for sanctuary. She had been attacked by demons, who were trying to capture her.” He walked around his desk and opened a wall safe behind it. “She told me her true name and said that if one day a fellow angel showed up looking for her and spoke her name I was to give them this.” He handed Castiel a small turquoise stone. “Once she had handed over the stone she passed away. I am very sorry,” the priest said apologetically.  
“I too a sorry to hear that my sister has perished but this stone is of great importance. Thank you for keeping it safe.” Castiel replied.  
  
  
“How the mighty have fallen,” Crowley mocked as he stood above the damp and bleeding Marv. “The troll sits under his bridge.”  
“What ever you are peddling demon, you can shove it right back into hell,” the fallen angel retorted. Crowley scoffed.  
“You angels, always up on your horse, thinking you are better than us. You lot have cause just as much pain and suffering as us demons. The only difference is you get to say it was done in Gods name.” He made a show of pulling his collar and tightening his jacket, simply to remind Marv how cold and miserable it was under the overpass. “Better PR I suppose. Although it is much easier to sell an old man with a beard, than the horns and pitch fork I’ve been force to work with.” Marv stood up, not that it helped make him seem any more imposing. The King of Hell may have been well endowed, but he could not by any means be considered tall. However, compared to Marv he was practically a moose.  
“Did you pop in just to lecture me, demon?” Marv spat.  
“No, not at all, I’m here to help you, get you off the streets. Put a roof over your head, a warm meal in you belly.” Crowley replied.  
“And in return for your kindness, what do you want, my soul?” Marv questioned.  
“You and I both know that that piece of fluff taking up space inside you is no more a soul than my heart is a heart. No, I have no interest in that cheap knock off. What I’m after is more cerebral,” he said with a grin.  
“Ha, you have got to be kidding me? You think I am going to share with you the secrets of Heaven?” Marv laughed. “I may have fallen but I am still loyal to my brothers and sisters.” It was Crowley turn to laugh.  
“Loyal? From what I heard you locked the doors and then pitted angel against angel in a Heavenly smack down,” the demon replied.  
“All for the greater good,” Marv retorted a little sheepishly, not even convincing himself.  
“Well the greater good tossed you out like week old leftovers. Now here are your choices,” Crowley said. “You can come with me, willingly, and I will set you up as you’ve grown accustomed, a nice penthouse apartment, all the food, booze, books and ‘Crystals’ you could ever want for. Waited on hand and foot by some of my finest employees. And in return all I ask is that you to answer all and any questions I may have.” The demon stepped uncomfortably close to Marv before offering the second option. “Or I simply take you, but instead, you come with me to hell, where I peel every bit of information I need from that giant noggin of yours piece by piece.”  
“Nice try, Crowley, I may look and feel abandoned but I still have an angel on my shoulder, keeping a close eye on me. You so much as lay a finger on me and a garrison of angels will be down here quicker than you could pierce my skin.” Marv boasted. Crowley smiled.  
“You mean this angel?” He asked as he snapped his fingers. The lifeless head of Thomas appeared in his hand, swinging grotesquely by his bloodied hair. “So which option is it going to be?” He asked.  
  
  
Sam hadn't managed to sleep much and the little he did get left him feeling grumpy and groggy. He reluctantly returned to Dean’s room. Taking one look at Faith, he sent her packing. “Go. Get some sleep, you look terrible,” he ordered.  
“That’s rich coming from you. Did you get any shut eye at all?” She asked.  
“Enough,” he responded gruffly. Faith could tell that there was no point arguing with him, not in the mood he was in. As soon as she left, Dean turned to Sam, who was doing his best not to make eye contact with his big brother. He didn't want to be in the same room as him, let alone have a trademark Winchester moment.  
“Sam, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I know what I did was unforgivable, but I just need you to understand...” Dean tried to explain but Sam cut him off.  
“Its fine, I'm fine. No harm, no foul, right?” He said coldly, looking in Dean’s direction but still not meeting his eye. He began to busy himself with the files Faith had left open on the table. Dean turned away, the sting of anger and frustration in his eyes. He didn’t blame Sam for his reaction, he just felt so helpless, so out of control. Even drained as he was now, it was a constant battle to not lash out at everyone in the bunker.  
  
“You were right earlier, you know,” Dean said without turning back around, Sam looked up but said nothing. “It's not enough, but I was right too,” he said, finally facing Sam again. “You can't cure me. I'm not Crowley. I'm no run of the mill cross roads demon,” he said.  
“Well, what then? We just have Faith follow you around for the rest of her life?” Sam suggested sarcastically.  
“No, not hers, just the rest of mine,” Dean replied cryptically.  
“What?” Sam questioned a little confused.  
“The Blade, it killed Abbadon. Why not me?” Dean asked.  
“Because without the Mark the Blade is useless,” Sam said.  
“I have the Mark, the Blade will work for me,” Dean explained.  
“What? No, that’s suicide,” Sam said, shocked.  
“And what you do you call trying to cure me in the full knowledge that it would kill you?” Dean said desperately. Sam didn't respond. “Look Sam, no matter how this plays out, I’m not going anywhere pleasant afterwards. I’d rather go now instead of remaining here and becoming this monster,” he pleaded.  
“I don’t know,” Sam said.  
“What don’t you know, Sam? This is the only logical move,” Dean said.  
“I don’t know,” Sam repeated, slightly louder. “I think I’m just worried it might actually work,” he finally admitted. Dean threw his hands in the air and then slammed them down on his side of the table. Sam visibly flinched, so Dean tried to calm himself.  
“All the more reason to try,” he said quietly, trying to show he was still in control.  
“Look, let’s just wait till Cas gets back with Faith’s angel. See what she has to say,” Sam suggested.  
“Don’t be so naïve Sam, there is no angel to find. If she was still alive she would have found a way to get back to Faith by now. Get in contact with her at least. She is dead and has been for some time now,” Dean said harshly. “We need to do this and we need to do it now. Cas won’t get it. He won’t understand,” he added impatiently.  
“No, we wait, end of discussion,” Sam said, putting an end to the conversation. Dean sat defeated in the chair, the only piece of furniture to be replaced in the trap. He sat and he stewed. His total lack of control, over himself, his freedom and now even his death was driving him crazy. He sat and didn’t speak again. Sam and Faith took it in turns to sit with him, while the other ate, slept or simply stretched their legs. But there was no sign of the angel. Weakening grace or not he should have returned by now.  
  
  
To Castiel’s horror, when Father Murphy had handed him the stone he had felt nothing, no power, no strength and certainly nothing divine. It just felt like a pebble, nothing more. So reluctant to return to the Bunker with only bad news he travelled to Heaven instead. He needed to get a location on Marv; he had to find out how to access the stone’s power, assuming it was the stone he was looking for at all. However, when he arrived all those in Heaven seemed to be in a collective panic. Hannah could be seen barking orders at numerous angels, while others frantically accessed computer terminals. But everyone and everything went silent when Castiel’s presence was noted. Hannah did not look pleased to see him. She hurriedly approached him and led him off into a side room for privacy.  
  
“What is going on?” He questioned. Hannah frowned, clearly not wanting to tell him. “Hannah?” He pressed not giving her the option.  
“It’s Metatron, Marv,” she said. “We’ve lost him,” she admitted.  
“What?” Castiel snapped.  
“Thomas is dead. Marv is missing,” she said. “From what we can tell, it was demons,” she informed him.  
“Crowley,” the trench-coated angel growled.  
“It would seem so. Thomas was one of our most battle seasoned soldiers. A lesser demon would have been no match for him,” she stated. “I have several angels on the hunt for Marv already, if he is still alive, we will find him,” she promised.  
“Nothing is of more importance. Crowley and Metatron together could spell the end of Heaven and Earth, we must, at all costs, separate them,” Cas commanded.  
“Do you really believe Metatron would betray us to a demon?” Hannah asked.  
“I believe he is capable of anything if he feels it may be beneficial to him. I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Castiel replied regretfully.  
“Did his information help?” She asked, changing the subject and hoping her advise had been of some use. “Did you find the angel?” Castiel frowned at the question.  
“She is dead, I’m afraid. I did however, find this.” He said as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the turquoise stone. “But as far as I can tell, it is just a stone, it has no power,” he added.  
“May I?” Hannah asked. Castiel placed the stone in her open palm. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around it. It was clearly having an affect on her. She opened her eyes again and looked at Castiel disbelievingly. “Can you not hear that? Feel that?” She asked in what was almost a whisper.  
“No,” Cas answered, shaking his head.  
“Castiel, this stone is possibly the most powerful thing I have ever held. It speaks,” she said.  
“I hear nothing,” Cas admitted.  
“It’s your grace; it’s so weak you are more human than angel,” she closed her hand and eyes once again and repeated what the stone was saying to her. ”Whoever accepts this power, accepts its burden,” she looked at Cas once more and handed him back the stone. “It needs to be you, I’m sure of it. Castiel, you have to take Metatron’s grace. You need to accept the responsibility of the Oubliette.”  
  
  
Dean still sat silently in the chair. He was beginning to slip again. He could feel it start to wash over him. He looked at his watch and frowned. Each time he remained himself for shorter and shorter periods. The situation was unsustainable, he knew it and he knew what he needed to do. He had spent his time on the chair formulating a plan. One that he hoped he could still play out even after the mark had grown stronger. But as his human side began to weaken again he started to doubt he would have enough self control not to seriously hurt someone once he put his plan into action. He needed to do it now before he was too far gone. For the first time he consciously forced his eyes to turn black. He watched as the colour faded from the world around him and then looked up at Faith, who was currently on babysitting duty.  
  
“Shit,” she said when she saw him. “Already?” she asked. Dean remained silent, just sat motionless in the chair. She approached him as she would a caged animal. “Easy now,” she said as she crossed over into the trap. Still, he didn’t move but his eyes followed her every move. Once she was close enough she reached out her hand to touch him. However his arms were longer and quicker. Full force, he drove his fist into her left side until he felt her ribs crack. The sensation brought him immense pleasure as did her face as it was taken over by a mix of shock and pain.  
She doubled over, stumbling backwards. Dean stood up, grabbing her by the shoulders straightening her upright once again. He quickly drew back his other hand and landed another blow on the opposite side. The force of the punch caused her to slide backwards. This time, Faith heard the sickening crack. A burning pain shot up her side and along her back as the wind was knocked from her. Desperately her hand grappled for his, unable to locate it. Finally ignoring the agony it caused, she mustered the strength to lift her arm and slam her hand clumsily down onto his neck, making contact, flesh on flesh. As quickly as it began, it ended. Faith dropped to knees and then on to her side, trying to catch her breath while also fighting the evil she had allowed inside. Dean knelt beside her. She attempted to crawl away from him, still in fight or flight mode. She succeeded in dragging herself outside the trap before what had just happened became clear in her head. She looked from him to the floor and then shot him a look that begged him not to do what he was planning, but she was unable to vocalise her plea.  
  
“Crap, I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant…” He stopped mid sentence, realising he didn’t have time to explain. He looked up and yelled. “Sam!” In seconds Sam came running.  
“What happened?” He asked.  
“I did.” Dean replied. “Her ribs, maybe a lung. She needs Cas.” He ordered.  
“He’s not back.” Sam said in a panic.  
“Then she needs a hospital, now,” Dean said. Sam looked at him.  
“What? No. I can’t leave,” he said desperately.  
“Sam if you don’t and she dies. What then? Come on, where am I going to go?” Dean tried to reason. Sam frowned but helped Faith up and walked her out the door.  
Dean wasn’t happy, he never meant to do so much damage, but he had been darker that he realised. He looked down at the trap; at least it hadn’t been for nothing. Where Faiths feet had dragged across the floor there was a four inch gap in the circle. He took a deep breath and stepped outside the trap, he was free.  
He immediately went to the curse box hoping against hope that his assumption would be correct. He figured that attempting to gain access to the Blade just after Faith had drained him; he would appear human enough and could bypass the sigils on the box. He laid his hand on the lid but pulled it away quickly as the flesh on his palm began to burn. Regardless of the ugly blisters that appeared he tried again, this time ready for the pain. He managed to open the lid with relative ease, however he left several layers of skin behind, once he let go. It wasn’t pleasant but it was bearable. He plunged his hand into the now open box, this time his entire hand up to his wrist burnt and blistered, but he did his best to ignore it. It was a small penance for what he had just done to Faith. He took a tight grip of the Blade and freed it from its own prison. Its power raced through him, healing his hand and filling him with its strengths and desires. If he was going to do this he was going to have to do it quick, while he still had enough control.  
  
  
Upstairs, Sam and Faith hadn’t yet made it as far as the study. Still unable to catch her breath, Faith struggled against Sam’s aid as best she could, trying her damnedest to make him turn back and return to Dean. Every time, Sam assumed it was her injuries causing her to slow and pull away from him. She desperately tried to speak, but only whispers came out.  
“Don’t try to speak, I’m going to get you help,” he said, almost picking her up. Frustrated by him not understanding her, she swung her foot and kicked him sharply in the shin. “Ouch,” Sam said reflectively. He turned to look at her. “What the hell?” He complained. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his head down to her level. With her mouth now next to his ear she tried again.  
“He wasn’t fully gone. He was faking,” she whispered. Realising what this meant, Sam straightened up. Faith took a step back and leaned against the wall releasing Sam from his burden. “Go,” she mouthed, pointing in the direction of Dean’s room. Sam paused. “Go!” She managed to croak and shot him an impatient glare.  
  
  
Sam made it back to Dean just in time to see his brother drive the First Blade deep into his own heart.  
“Dean!” Sam yelled and was at his side as he fell to his knees, mouthfuls of blood spilling down his chin. “No, Dean, not again,” Sam begged. Dean tried to answer, but only a gargling sound came out. He leaned forward, his hands on the floor in front of him as he tried to cough up the blood from his throat. He remained on all fours, waiting for it to end, for it all to be over. However, he quickly realised that he wasn’t getting any worse. He felt the power of the Blade begin to build deep within his heart and then movement as it began to retract. The Mark on his arm glowed red as it expelled the Blade and healed him as it exited. He stayed still, unable to prevent his inevitable recovery, until finally the Blade dropped to the floor.  
“Oh my God,” Sam said, as Dean sat back on his knees, consumed with defeat. Sam pulled at Dean’s shirt revealing his chest. Where there should have been a gaping wound there wasn’t even a scratch. Dean looked at his brother for a moment not knowing what to say, what could he possibly say?  
Then without thinking he grabbed the Blade and bolted from the room. Instincts kicked in, he knew he wasn’t going back in that trap. He also knew running was a terrible idea but he had no choice, he needed to go, to get away from here. He didn’t even pause as he passed Faith in the hall way, who could do nothing but watch as he sprinted out the door. Sam followed moments behind, making it to Faith as they heard the Impala roar into live and then disappear into the distance.  
  
  
Cas stood alone, in a manicured garden, this was his favourite place in Heaven, somewhere he could go to be alone and to think. But he wasn’t here to think, he had already done enough of that, now wasn’t the time for thinking it was time for action. He held the vile of grace in his hand. Hannah was right; he had no choice but to take Metatron’s grace. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He popped the lid and watched as the white fog like material swirled inside. It slowly rose from the tiny bottle and the angel opened his mouth drawing it in. It took a brief moment to settle, once it had, a blinding light erupted from Castiel. He threw back his head allowing it to engulf him inside and out. He stumbled slightly as the light faded and for a second or two his eyes shone angelic blue.  
He hadn’t realised how truly weak he had become, how badly he had felt until now. Now that he was back to full power he saw just how close he had come to burning through the last of the stolen grace. He pulled the stone from his pocket and finally experienced the power Hannah had described. He also heard the words.  
“Who ever accepts this power, accepts its burden.” He closed his fingers around the stone.  
“I accept,” he said solemnly. This time blue-green light, the colour of the stone, shone through his closed fist. It travelled up his arm stopping in the centre of his chest, illuminating his rib cage. Its light continued to build in intensity until it reached it’s peak and imploded into nothing. Cas opened his hand and looked at the stone. It still radiated divine power but having found an angel for its Oubliette, it no longer spoke. Cas cocked his head sensing something new. “Faith,” he said before teleporting back to the bunker.

He arrived moments after Dean had made his escape. Faith was propping herself up against a table with her hands as Sam was on the phone. “You have pulled some stupid moves before, but this is a new level of stupid. Seriously, call me back!” Sam shouted down the phone before hanging up and spotting the angel.  
“Cas, thank God,” Sam said. The angel ignored Sam and went to Faith’s side placing a hand on her back. Light passed from the angel to his Oubliette, healing her completely, while also re-powering her soul back to pre-‘the fall’ levels. Cas stepped back, Faith staring at him in shock. Sam also noticed the change in Cas. “You took Metatron’s grace,” he said, visibly relieved.  
“Sarah, I mean Laylah, she is dead.” Faith said sadly, tears in her eyes still staring at Cas, whose eyes were also locked on hers. Sam watched the strange interaction, not grasping what Faith had realised as soon as he touched her.  
“I’m sorry,” Cas confirmed. She stood silently for a moment, taking the pain and loss that was overwhelming her and burying it deep. She would allow herself to mourn her oldest friend when circumstances were less dire, or at least when she was alone.  
“And you’re…” She paused, not believing what her soul could feel. “You’re my new angel?” She questioned. Still neither the angel nor Oubliette broke their intense eye contact.  
“Yes,” Cas again confirmed.   
“How?” She asked.  
“Whoa, hold up,” Sam finally said, interrupting them. “Can someone let me know what is going on? Is it true? Are you Faith’s new guardian?” He said to Cas. Faith finally looked away from her angel and addressed Sam.  
“Castiel, he healed my injuries, but also my soul. I, as he is, am back up to full strength,” Faith explained to Sam.  
“Is this all because of Metatron’s grace?” Sam asked. Both he and Faith turned to him for an answer.  
“Partly, I needed his grace to be able to accept the Oubliettes stones power,” Cas said cautiously. Faith and Sam exchanged looks of disbelief before Cas spoke again. “I hope you don’t mind, I had no other choice,” he said, a little unsure of how Faith was reacting to the news.  
“Are you kidding me? I’m devastated to have lost Sarah, she has been with me from the very beginning, but I am honoured that you are willing to take on her role. If she could have chosen a replacement she would have approved of you I am sure of it,” Faith answered him earnestly.  
“How are you feeling Cas?” Sam asked, remembering the angel’s fears.  
“I harbour no wishes to overthrow Heaven if that is what you mean,” he replied.  
“Good,” Sam said, “Because now, we have a serious problem.”  
  
  
Dean had been on the run for less than thirty minutes when his phone buzzed for the fifth time. He ignored it again, not wanting to try and explain himself or his actions to Sam. He wasn’t able to explain it to himself. He didn’t have a plan and was positive that by fleeing the bunker, he had made a disastrous mistake. But still, something wouldn’t allow him to turn around. He wasn’t going back inside that trap; he knew that much for sure.  
The phone buzzed again. He relented, wanting to let Sam know he was ok, overpowering his wish to avoid an argument he knew he couldn’t win. ”Look, I know I shouldn’t have left.” He said as he answered it. To his surprise it wasn’t Sam.  
“No idea what you’re talking about pal,” Garth said, Dean could hear the grin on his face.  
“Garth, sorry but now is not a good time,” he sighed.  
“It never is with you, is it?” Garth responded, in a whisper.  
“Seriously Garth, what ever it is will have to wait,” Dean replied.  
“Not an option, homie, I afraid. I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t life or death,” he spoke quickly. “I’ve got three fairly green hunters, against my advice, about to take on a nasty nest of vamps not far from your location.” He said, his voice hurried and hushed. “They desperately need back up. I would go myself but I’m literally in the middle of a hunt myself. I need to take care of this wraith before I can head over, so, I’m going to be late to the party.” Dean’s phones beeped in his ear. “I’ve just sent you their coordinates. Thanks buddy, I owe you one,” Garth finished, hanging up before Dean could refuse.  
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed as he pulled the car over and punched the coordinates into his GPS. “God damn it,” he cursed again. Garth was good; Dean was less than fifteen minutes away. He took a quick internal look. He still felt fine. There was a strong possibility he could make it to the hunt, help take out the nest and be on the road before he started to slip again. Plus the idea of a hunt sounded pretty good to him right about now, a way to relieve some of his pent up anger and frustration.

The traffic was lighter than he had guessed and he pulled up outside an old warehouse in less than ten minutes. Next to a jeep stood three nervous looking kids, the oldest, no more than twenty five, the other two a couple of years younger. Dean got out of the Impala and the eldest approached him.  
“You must be Garth,” he said, holding out his hand which Dean ignored.  
“No, he’s running late. Sent me instead,” Dean said, annoyed at Garth for not talking these kids out of what would have been a kamikaze mission.  
“Great, I’m Peter, and these two here are Toby and Carl,” Peter replied.  
“Dean,” Dean said gruffly. “What do we know?” He asked, not wanting to waste time on small talk and doing his best to ignore the delight on the faces of the younger two. The one on the right mouthed the word ‘Winchester’ to the other before they excitedly and silently high-fived each other. Peter again, spoke for the group.  
“From what we can tell there are seven Vamps inside. They have picked off at least two dozen runaways and vagrants up and down the state over the past two weeks or so. They move on each night, this is the first time we have managed to locate them between feedings. We lose them now, who knows how many more people will be killed before we find them again.” Peter explained. Dean looked at the building.  
“Entrances and exits?” He asked.  
“The main entrance is that door you see there. There is a cargo bay and another exit around the back,” Peter informed him. Dean was somewhat impressed, they had done everything right so far and Peter delivered the information quickly and to the point.  
“Ok, good work,” Dean admitted. “Peter, you and Toby head for the door at the rear, Carl, you’re with Me.”  
“Yes Sir,” Carl chimed with an excited smile. Dean rolled his eyes as he headed for the door closest to them, Carl in tow. He watched the other two disappear around the corner of the building and then waited another sixty seconds or so, to give them time to reach their end before he pushed open the steal door and entered the warehouse.  
  
Inside was pitch black but after a few seconds the world cleared up and came into focus for Dean. He realised he could see almost as well as he could outside in the daylight. Carl took out a flash light, clearly not possessing the same night vision as Dean. A noise to the left drew Dean’s attention; he focused and found he could now zero in on it. A vampire may not have a heartbeat or have need to draw breath but they still made enough noise for Dean to hear and locate them easily. He could even tell how many there were and whether they were stationary or not without needing to get any closer. And there was the smell. He had never noticed it before but there was a coppery scent in the air. A smell of congealed blood that he instinctively knew was vampire. Turning his senses to the right he scanned the area, it was empty of predators, a couple of rats, an owl and a two dozen or so mice was all that direction promised. He motioned to Carl to head to the right, getting him out of harm and his way. Happy to be back in the hunt, Dean was chomping at the bit, he and his Blade both at the ready, neither wanting nor needing Carl for what was about to happen. He headed off, flanking the vampires until he found the door way into their room. There were five of them standing around a steel drum fire. He entered purposely making enough noise to gain their attention.  
“Sorry, am I interrupting anything important?” He asked mockingly. The vampires collectively growled at Dean.

The first attacker was easy pickings. Dean took off in a fast paced sprint towards the scruffy vampire who was attempting to pounce at him. He took him out swiftly, running the First Blade through his neck with little effort. The second and third started at Dean in unison. He turned to the one on his right, giving it the same treatment as the first unlucky vamp, while with a wave of his hand; Dean sent the other flying across the room. The vampire crashed loudly into the opposite wall. The final two still standing, now knowing that Dean wasn’t merely a suicidal human, advanced on him, fangs and knives at the ready. From nearly ten feet away, they lunged at him, in a heartbeat, Dean found himself on the other side of the attack, out of striking distance as the vampires landed roughly on the floor with Dean behind them admiring his new power.  
“Teleportation. Awesome,” he said to himself, smiling proudly. The vampire he had tossed across the room had rejoined his two buddies. Dean shot them a grin.  
“Three against one, I like those odds,” He taunted. Again, they advanced, one in the centre and the others on either side, slightly ahead. His trusty Blade took the head of the vampire on the right. His bare hand went to the throat of the attacker on his left, his nails digging deep, burrowing through skin, flesh and arteries until he felt spine. He gripped tightly and tore it out with a violent yank, severing the head in one grotesque and bloody motion. Dropping the slippery bone from his hand he let out a roar of ecstasy, distracted, the final vampire was on him before he could defend himself. Dean was knocked to the floor, the vamp straddling his chest; with his arms pined beneath the weight of his attacker, whose fangs were now only inches away from his neck.  
Dean closed his eyes and concentrated. The vampire pulled away from him suddenly, his hands on his head in agony. Red light spilled from his eyes, nose and mouth, before the entire vampire exploded into a fine red mist.  
Dean sat up, his eyes open again, but shining black and in true awe of his new powers. He had feed his desire but he was hungry for more. Almost on cue, as Dean picked himself up off the floor, Carl entered the room. Dean looked away, forcing his eyes to return to normal.  
  
“Holy shit, I heard you were good, but four vamps, single handed, that’s the stuff of legends,” Carl said excitedly.  
“Five,” Dean corrected him. Carl scanned the room, recounting the bodies.   
“You sure you counted right man? I only count four.” Carl asked. Dean stood next to Carl making a show of counting the dead vampires no aware of the vampire mist hanging in the air.  
“Hum, you’re right, I must have counted wrong, it was actually six,” Dean replied. Carl looked at him to see if he was joking. He continued to watch, frozen in horror, as Dean’s hand shot towards his chest, ripping through his ribs and tearing out his heart with ease. Carl’s eyes flashed from his own heart to Dean one last time, before he dropped to the floor. Dean threw the heart next to the hunter’s lifeless body before leaving the room in search for the other hunters.  
  
He easily found Peter and Toby at the rear of the warehouse, the pair of them standing proudly over two decapitated vampires.  
“Where’s Carl?” Toby asked, as soon as he spotted Dean approaching them alone.  
“Sorry, he didn’t make it,” Dean grumbled attempting to sound bothered.  
“Oh God!” Peter gasped.  
“Eh, no, not quite,” Dean replied, as he walked towards Peter. As he passed Toby, Dean dug his Blade deep into the unsuspecting hunter’s stomach. The novice hunter’s eyes widened and his hands went to his wound as Dean, barely pausing, continued advancing on Peter. Peter stepped back, drawing a hand gun and unloading the entire barrel into Dean’s chest. Dean flinched but didn’t slow as he continued to close in on him.  
“What the hell?” Peter said, as he tossed his empty gun aside.  
“You’re getting warmer,” Dean answered. Peter had nowhere left to retreat to; his back was flat against the wall, his feet frozen in place from fear. Dean grinned at him and Peter watched in horror as Dean, purely for dramatic effect turned his eyes black once again.  
Neither predator nor prey said another word as Dean slowly pushed the First Blade into Peter’s chest and drew it down to his waist. The last thing Peter heard were his insides spilling out and hitting the floor with the sickly splash.  
  
“Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit.” Toby babbled, still on his knees. Dean dropped the lifeless Peter to the floor and returned his attention to Toby. “No, please no.” Toby begged as Dean bent over him. He tilted Toby’s chin upwards exposing his neck. “Please, don’t do this, I’m begging you.” Toby cried. Dean said nothing, mercilessly tearing his Blade deep into the kid’s throat, killing him instantly.  
Dean stood there a moment, blood dripping from his hands and his Blade. He felt amazing, better and more alive than he had in years. The pain, the sickness were gone, the bloodlust fed, he was riding high on endorphins. He leaned over Toby one last time, wiping his Blade clean on the back of his jacket before returning outside to the Impala.  
  
He grabbed a bag off of the back seat that had an emergency change of clothes and swapped his bloodied and bullet holed t-shirt for a clean fresh one. He was about to hop into the drivers seat when it dawned on him, he could teleport. He coldly tossed the keys in the mud next to ‘Baby’ and with a click of his fingers, he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

 The trio in the bunker had tried everything they could collectively think of to track down Dean, all to no avail. They had just about given up hope, when Sam’s phone began to ring. He looked at the caller id and gave Faith and Cas a disappointed shake of his head, letting them know it wasn’t Dean.  
“Hey Garth,” Sam said answering the phone.   
“Man, am I happy to hear your voice. I’m at the nest now and when there was no sign of you two I feared the worst,” Garth said relieved. “Sorry Garth, what nest?” Sam asked.   
“The vamp nest I told Dean to haul ass to,” Garth answered.   
“Wait, when were you talking to Dean?” Sam asked eagerly. Faith and Cas both turning there full attention to the phone conversation at the mention of Deans name.  
“A couple hours ago. He didn’t tell you?” Garth asked, worried again.   
“Ah, no, he is out on his own for a bit,” Sam replied, purposely vague.   
“Shit and I don’t suppose you heard from him have you?” Garth cursed.  
“No, what’s going on Garth?” Sam pressed.  
“I don’t know, I called him, asked if he would give some hunters a dig out with a vamp nest. I was in the middle of taking down a wraith and wouldn’t make it in time, but I knew Dean was close by. The thing is Sam; I get here and find myself knee deep in dead vampires, along with three dead hunters and no sign of the Winchesters,” Garth explained.  
“Ok, maybe something came up and Dean never made it to the hunt,” Sam suggested, not overly surprised that he was a no show. With his brothers current condition the last thing he needed was to be in the middle of a hunt.   
“Nah, I pretty sure he was here alright. That Impala he loves so much is still sitting out front,” Garth replied unhappily. “Oh God, I hope he is ok,” he added.   
“Send me your coordinates, I’m on my way,” Sam replied.

Cas and Sam appeared next to Garth moments after they had ended the phone call. Faith had opted to remain in the bunker on the off chance Dean was to return. If Garth was surprised or taken aback by the Winchester and his angel appearing out of thin air, he didn’t mention it. Instead he threw his arms around Sam.   
“I’m sure he is alright, it’s Dean after all, no vamp is going to take him down,” Garth said, more so trying to convince himself, than console Sam.  
“You’re right, Garth, I’m pretty confident a vampire had not managed to kill Dean,” Sam agreed, patting the skinny man on the back. “Look, you can head off, we can handle it from here,” he suggested.  
“Thanks Sam, I’ve seen some messy scenes in my time, but I’d sooner not go back in there,” he admitted. “I have to make some uncomfortable house calls, let the families know those boys in there won’t be coming home,” he added.  
“One thing, before you go. You said earlier, that you knew Dean was close by. How? His GPS is turned off on all his phones,” Sam quizzed him.   
“Yeah, I figured you two would do that to me sooner or later, but someone has to keep an eye on you two so I kinda low jacked the impala,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You did what?” Sam snapped. “No, actually, it doesn’t matter,” he said shaking it off, prioritising what he needed to be annoyed at, Garth was not on that list. “Listen Garth, Dean, he, well…, he isn’t himself at the moment. If you hear from him, you let me know and under no circumstances are you to go anywhere near him. Do you understand?” Sam stressed.  
“What’s going on Sam?” Garth asked, more concerned than ever.  
“Just some family stuff, but I am going to sort it. Just steer clear and let me know if you hear from him. Got it?”  
“Ten Four big buddy. But do me a favour, when you have it sorted, drop a dime and let me know he is ok. Oh and also maybe don’t tell him about the low jacking,” Garth suggested.  
“Deal,” Sam agreed.

Sam waited until Garth's car had disappeared into the distance before he stormed over to the Impala, the driver door still open as Dean had left it. Getting in, Sam checked the inside for any clue as to where Dean could have gone. On the passenger seat he found the bullet ridden tee-shirt Dean had swapped, holding it up he counted at least five holes.  
“Vampires don’t need guns,” he said darkly. Castiel standing next to the car stooped down and picked something shiny out of the mud. He silently handed the car keys to Sam, giving Sam a worried look. Accepting them, Sam used the tee-shirt to clean the mud off  and stowed them safely in his jacket pocket. “There is nothing else here. Let’s take a look inside,” Sam said climbing out of the car and heading for the warehouse. 

“Over here Sam,” Cas said, when he found the first group of bodies. Sam followed him into the room and the place was a blood bath.  
“Five dead?” Sam asked.  
“I believe it is six,” Cas corrected, “That red on the walls and ceiling, was a vampire also.” The angel walked the room, checking each severed head for tell-tale fangs. Sam went to the one body whose head was still attached. This was clearly a human.  
“Five vampires and one human,” Sam confirmed grimly. He glanced from the body to the heart next to it.  His hand went to his month in horror as he realised how his brother had killed the hunter, a hunter who little more than child.  He closed his eyes for a second, taking a moment to steady his emotions before he crouched over the body, patting down his jacket. He found what he was looking for, he reached into the pocket and removed the dead mans wallet, from which he removed the drivers licence. “What are you doing?” Cas asked.  
“Dean will hate himself for doing this, but I know him; he will want to know who these hunters were,” Sam explained.  
They made their way through the warehouse and found another macabre scene. Two vampires both beheaded but neither as cleanly as the ones in the other room. These were clearly taken down by less experienced hunters. Presumably by the other two deceased in the room. Sam went to both of them, repeating his actions from the other room, retrieving an ID from each body.  
“Wait for me outside. I will clean up in here,” Cas said.  
“These hunters, they’re kids,” Sam said holding up the IDs. “They need to be returned to their families.”  
“I will see to it. Go, I don’t need you here for this,” The angel demanded. Sam relented, exiting the warehouse through the rear door.  
He was in a daze, finding it impossible to process everything he had just seen, the carnage that his brother had wreaked and the innocent lives he had callously put an end to. He stumbled to the wall of the building, leaning against it; Sam emptied the contents of his stomach. ‘Was there any way of coming back from this?’ Even if they managed to rid Dean of the Mark, what he had done inside this warehouse will have changed his brother irreversibly.  
He steadied himself and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before returning to the Impala. He climbed into the driver’s seat and sat waiting for Cas to return.  He was numb, he should have had cured Dean when he had the chance. These boys, their deaths were as much on him as they were on his brother.  
He looked around the car, their home for so many years. Dean would never have left this car, there would have needed to be not a shred of Dean left, for him to leave the Impala. To see her abandoned like this by him scared Sam nearly as much as the bodies inside.  
Maybe there was no Dean left to save and they were already past the point of no return. Maybe there was nothing left to do but to try and put him down.  There was another course of action besides the cure, an unthinkable one but possibility none the less. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone because he was even afraid to admit to himself that it may be an option.  
He swore to Dean and to himself that he would never use demon blood again. He wasn't even sure if it would even work any more, but he couldn't lie to himself any more, it might come to it and if it did, after what he had seen in the past hour, he knew would be willing to try.  
  
  
Dean was finding that maybe he had been missing out on the finer things in life, up till now that was. He sat in a booth in the corner of a trendy up market night club, three empty bottles of Bollinger champagne in front of him and accompanied on each side by a beautiful woman, both eager to hear what he had to say and to laugh at his jokes as long as another bottle showed up fairly soon.  He raised his hand and clicked his fingers at a passing hostess, ordering two more. He was charming and attentive, but also a little threatening and mysterious. A recipe the ladies seemed to be getting off on.    
“So you become more powerful than you can imagine and this is how you spend your time,” Crowley said, arriving at the edge of the booth. “I gotta say, I’m impressed,” he added.  
“Ladies, my associate and I need to have a chat, how about you lot go powder your noses or something,” Dean suggested.  
“Awww,” The two girls said in unison, disappointed, just as the fresh bottles arrived.  
“Get out,” Dean snapped, switching from friendly to vicious in a heart beat.  The ladies scurried away, but didn’t go far, sitting at the bar, glancing back repeatedly, ready to return at Dean’s whim.  
“Nice,” Crowley commented, as he slid into the booth.  
“You look your time, I called you over an hour ago,” Dean complained.  
“And as eager as I was to meet up with the new Knight of Hell, I needed to make sure you didn’t have Winchester junior and Dumbo the angel laying in wait for me. You can understand I’ve spent enough time in their traps than I would have liked.”  
“I can’t disagree with you there,” Dean remarked pouring two glasses of champagne and handing one to the king.  
“What are we celebrating?” Crowley asked.  
“Hopefully, our collaboration,” Dean replied with a smirk.  
“Oh, well, I’ll drink to that,” Crowley replied bringing his glass to his lips. “To what do I owe this change of heart, last two times we met you were not best pleased to see me?” He asked.  
“Let’s just say I’ve had a chance to see things from the other side and the grass is, in fact, a hell of a lot greener,” Dean said.  
“So you popped your cherry, finally let that Blade of yours loose on the world” Crowley observed. Dean gave him a knowing look and nodded as he refilled their glassed. “Felt good?” Crowley asked.   
“Yes and no,” Dean admitted.  
“How so?”   
“Well it would seem I have been quite spoilt in the past. I am used to more durable playthings,” Dean replied. “You see I cut my teeth in hell, with Alistair, there things lasted longer, gave me more time to really enjoy myself. Up here, humans are so fragile, there bodies break so easily,” he added.   
“What is it you want from me, Dean,” Crowley asked.  
“I want my own slice of hell, not much, just enough for me to do my work. I provide my own victims. What I take from earth goes to my hell, to my rack,” Dean suggested.   
“And in return for this real-estate, what do I get?” Crowley asked.  
“Well, what do you want?” Dean replied.   
“More Knights, I want you to create and train me a squad of my own knights, ones that are loyal to me, regardless that I am not a stupid archangel,” Crowley explained.    
“Can I even do that, make other knights?” Dean asked. He liked the idea, seemed only right that he should expand.   
“I believe so,” Crowley admitted, looking a little disappointed, “I was kind of hoping that you would know because of the mark,” he added.  
“Maybe Cain could help,” Dean suggested.  
“Cain is in the wind, if anyone knows how to disappear it’s him. Besides he killed all the other knights, no way he would help make more,” Crowley said. “However I may have someone tucked, who can help us,” He added, a little unsure if he should share this information.  
“Oh? Who?” Dean asked, draining his glass.   
“Metatron,” Crowley said, a little nervously, but trying to make it seem like it wasn’t that big a deal by topping up both glasses as he said it.  
“Metatron is still alive,” Dean said, angrily. “I should have known that useless angel Castiel couldn’t kill him, the spineless piece of shit.”   
“Ok calm it there, I agree will all of that, but it has worked to our advantage because that useless angel of yours let Metatron fall, minus his grace mind you. But every little detail he jotted down from Socks and Sandals is still sitting in that bulbous head of his. There must be something in there about the Knights of Hell,” Crowley said, trying to appease Dean. “So maybe we stow the ‘lets kill Metatron’ plan for later and see what the douche knows first?”  
“Fine but when the time comes I get to slice him into pieces,” Dean demanded.  
“Well I’ll drink to that. Now how about we get those ladies back here and celebrate our new partnership,” Crowley said. Dean turned to them waving his index finger at them. The girls jumped to attention.  
 “Do you think you could find a couple of friends for my amigo here? I really wasn’t planning on sharing you two.”

 

 What do you mean you’ve lost Metatron?” Sam yelled across the study at Cas. “When were you going to tell us?” Cas had decided not to let Sam know Crowley had managed to kidnap Metatron, but when Sam suggested that Cas go and see if Marv knew anything about tracking a Knight of Hell, he had no choice be to confess.  
“Heaven is on it, they will find him. Crowley can only keep him hidden for so long. As it stands now, we are looking for any places on the planet that are warded from angels. It’s a long list but they are working on narrowing it down,” Cas explained. Sam grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.   
“Where are you going?” Faith shouted after him.   
“Out,” he replied and slammed the door behind him. Faith looked at Castiel.  
“You better get back upstairs see if there is anything you can do to speed the search along,” She suggested.   
“Will you be ok, here alone?” Castiel asked.  
“This place is Fort Knox, besides Sam’s on foot; he is not going to go far. He just needs to blow off some steam. He’ll be back before you are,” She said.

  

Marv had to admit this new set up of his wasn’t too bad at all. Ignoring the fact that he was a prisoner of Crowley and was constantly under the watchful eyes of two of the least friendly demons he had the displeasure to have met, there were thousands of books just waiting to be read plus Crowley wasn’t pushing him too hard for information, not yet anyway. They had had a couple of chats about Oubliettes, Marv repeating what he had told Castiel. Sure he was selling Heavens secrets, but nothing he had given was going to do any lasting damage to anyone, anyone important, possibly the Winchesters may get in a spot of bother, Castiel too, but that was localised, and they all deserved whatever they got. Heaven itself would remain unscathed so no major harm there.  
He was deep into a thrilling page turner when his benefactor entered the apartment, Marv could hear his speaking with his guards in the other room. He put down his book, carefully marking his page first and got up to welcome his guest. He retreated behind his over sized arm chair when he saw the Winchester enter the room along with Crowley.   
“How? I killed you,” he shouted cowering as if the chair was going to protect him.   
“As have many before you, you little weasel,” Dean growled at the tiny man, advancing on him. Crowley recognising that Dean had completely forgotten their discussion about needing the fallen angel alive jumped in front of him. Dean towered over the King, flashing coal black eyes as at him.   
“Put those bedroom eyes away for later,” Crowley said. “We need him, if we want to achieve any of our goals, we have to allow him to live,” he reminded Dean. Dean said nothing for a moment, breathing heavy, his nostrils flaring as he stared at Marv. Finally he took a step back and nodded at Crowley then silently continued to glare at Metatron, never once allowing his eyes to lighten.   
“Ok Marv, I can try and keep him at bay but you gotta give me something,” Crowley said, automatically stepping in as the good cop.  
“Just keep him away from me, for the love of God. What do you want to know?” Marv said truly terrified.   
“Well, our boy Dean here, thanks in no small part to you driving an angel blade through his chest, is now the Father of Murder,” Crowley explained. “We want to know everything you got stashed away in that brain of yours about the Knights of Hell,” He asked.  
“But I, God, he never spoke of them, the Knights I mean, I know bits and pieces but its all hearsay and rumour, I know no more than any other angel. Do you think I would have killed him, if I knew it would turn him into that,” Marv stammered.  Dean took a step forward, more from being referred to as ‘that’ than not getting the information he wanted. Crowley again used Dean’s ill temper to his advantage, again standing between the two advisories.   
“Come on Marv, you think I have any physical way of stopping him if he decides to no longer listen to me. Think hard, we want to create one or two more knights, some company for my friend here. You gotta know something, anything,” he said, faking desperation. Metatron racked his brain, his fear making him think quicker and clearer than normal.   
“There might be something,” he began, not even sure where he was going with his trail of thought, he was more thinking out loud than anything else. “You were asking me about the Oubliette, she could have the information you need,” he suggested.   
“She knows nothing,” Dean snapped, “I’ve spent enough time with her to know that.”  
“No, not her but whoever she has tucked away inside. Only the most ancient, most powerful demons get sentenced to an Oubliette after death. Get a hold of the Oubliette, you may get the answers you need,” Metatron explained.   
“You just bought yourself some time, Metatron, but mark my works, as soon as you are no longer useful I’m coming back for you and you will beg me to kill you,” Dean snarled.   
“All right then, grumpy, lets get you something to take the edge off,” Crowley said guiding Dean out the door. Once outside in the corridor Dean stopped and turned to Crowley a grin on his face. “Talk about mood swings, you are harder to keep with than a pregnant Amazon,” Crowley observed.   
“It’s just so perfect,” Dean replied. “Things never fell into place so easily as a human.”   
“What are you taking about? Are you high?” Crowley asked.  
“One, I get to have some revenge on that preachy bitch who locked me up and took away my Blade,” he said patting his jacket pocket. “And two; I’m pretty sure I know who she is carrying around with her. “He paused before reliving what he knew. “Alistair,” he said with a grin.   
“Wow, hold up there. Alistair? That bastard is an old school demon; he will sooner kill me and take my crown, than help me, a lesser demon and you wanna let him out for chat,” Crowley said, not liking the situation one bit.   
“Relax Crowley. Trust me, I’m no fan of his either, he may have tutored me in hell, but he also spent three decades torturing me also. I have no intention of letting him go free; I owe him some serious payback too. We get our hands on that Oubliette and we can both get what we want,” Dean suggested.

 

Sam had stopped at a local liquor store and pick up a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. He was completely out of ideas so he just walked aimlessly and drank. He eventually found himself at the edge of a dirty river, he picked a boulder at random and sat on it, finishing off half the bottle. At some point, time no longer something he was aware of, his phone rang. He fumbled to get it out of his pocket and dropped it, it fell to the ground hitting the side of the rock before sliding onto the damp sand. Sam leant over to reach it but he too slipped, landing on his back next to the phone, the screen cracked, but still ringing. Instead of answering it Sam just started to giggle, laughing at himself. Laughing at the fact that Dean Winchester was now a Knight of Hell, at the fact that his brother had killed three innocent hunters and that he was now out there doing God knows what and all Sam was doing was drinking whiskey and lying in wet sand.  
“What if that was an important call?” A voice said from above him. Sam remained where he was, but attempted to look backwards by raising his chin and viewing the world upside down. He couldn’t see the voice’s face from the angle he was at but he did recognise those boots.  
“Dean, is that you?” he asked, still giggling. “I fell off the rock,” he added.  
“You sure did buddy,” Dean confirmed. “But then again, even for your size you were always a light weight,” he added.  
“Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?” Sam asked, still not righting himself.  
“What do you think?” Dean replied, kicking the top of his brother head.  
“Ouch! God damn it Dean, that hurt,” he complained rubbing his head before finally dragging himself up off the ground.  
“You’re a mess,” Dean commented then leaned over scooping up Sam’s phone wiping the sand off it. Sam had cleared his head enough to realise he needed to be doing something so he pulled out his Demon killing knife and attempted to hold it up threateningly but instead stumbled backwards and then comically attempted to lean nonchalantly against the bolder.  
“What have you done, Dean?” He asked, “Those hunters were kids.”  
“Oh you know about that, well, yeah I feel just terrible about that but everyone has to go sooner or later. It was just their time I guess, God works in mysterious ways and all that,” Dean said  
“What are you talking about?” Sam replied.  
“I don’t know, just trying some of that emotional crap you’re so into. Not working, no?” Dean said mockingly. He leaned in close to Sam and then reached past him picking up the bottle. “Tut-tut Sam, you know you won’t find your answers at the bottom of a bottle,” he said before taking a swig.  
“What the hell do you want?” Sam spat at his brother.   
“None of your concern,” Dean replied, waving a hand, sending Sam flying into the water. The cold water was a shock to his system but did have the affect of sobering Sam up slightly.  He struggled to his feet and waded his way back onto the river bank. Dean had his back to him, the side of face illuminated by Sam’s phone in his hand as he was punching the keys. Sam still holding the knife ran at Dean and plunged it into the centre of his back. It shone red inside the wound and Dean flinched a little before reaching around and grabbing the knife and removing it.   
“That’s not the first time you’ve stabbed me in the back but it is the last,” he said, as he grabbed his brother by the throat.  
“Not yet, Dean,” Crowley said from behind him. Dean tuned his head but didn’t release his grip on Sam.   
“What are you doing here? I told you I would handle it,” Dean snapped at the demon.   
“Just keeping on eye on my interests, you are still a bit of a wild card. Now how about you drop Moose, we need him as leverage,” Crowley reminded him.  Dean signed heavily and tossed Sam aside like a rag-doll and turned his attention back to Sam’s phone, hit a couple of buttons and then placed it to his ear. 

“Sam?” Faith said.  
“Nope, its Dean,” he replied.  
“Dean, are you ok?” Is Sam with you?” She asked.  
“Yeah, he is here,” he replied. Faith felt a cold chill run through her, she knew from the tone of his voice it wasn’t the Dean she wanted to hear from.   
“Is he ok?” she asked.   
“For now, but his long term survival depends on how well you can follow directions,” Dean said.   
“Dean, don’t do this, come in, let me help you,” She begged. Dean ignored her plea.  
“First things first, no angel, you need to get out of the bunker without arousing good old Castiel’s suspicion. I get a sniff of him around and Sam is dead,” Dean threatened.   
“Fine,” she replied angrily through thinned lips, clenching her fists.   
“I want you to meet me here, follow along the river north, you’ll find us, it’s not far from the bunker, thirty minute walk tops. I want you here in ten or I take a finger from my little brother for every minute you are late. No phones, no weapons, no angels, got it?”  
“Got it.”  
“Clocks ticking, hope you’re a fast runner,” he said hanging up the phone, secretly hoping she wouldn’t make it before he finished with Sam’s right hand. 

  
Faith was in a panic, she didn’t know the area all that well and hoped she could find them in time. She contemplated calling Cas but was worried doing so might result in getting Sam killed. Besides she was the only one who could bring human Dean back. It was better to follow his orders for now. She found the river easily enough and sprinted along its bank, avoiding trees and rocks as best she could as she ran. She risked a glance at her watch as she moved quickly through the night. She couldn’t be sure but she thought she was closing in quickly on the ten minute mark. She picked up her pace, her lungs ached from the strain, she was fit, but she hadn’t run like this in years. A tree branch snagged her and tore into her forearm, ripping cloth and flesh indiscriminately. She was pulled backwards and landed roughly on her back.  
“Shit,” she cursed, picking herself up and starting off again. She bounded into a clearing at full pace almost running straight over Sam who was lying unconscious on the bank of the river, all his fingers still attached.  
  
“I’m impressed,” Dean said, “and a little disappointed,” he added. Faith glared at him then knelt down next Sam. “He is still alive, just sleeping off an embarrassing amount of whiskey and a fairly nasty knock to the head, but he’ll survive,” Dean assured her. “As long as you do what you’re told.” He tossed her a small burlap sack and a set of hand cuffs. “Cuffs first, and then stick those hands of yours into the sack,” He ordered.  
“Not until you guarantee Sam’s safety,” she countered.  
“You do as we ask and once he wakes up, he is free to go,” Crowley confirmed, Faith ignored him.  
“So you’re working for Crowley now,” she said to Dean as she locked the metal bracelets around her wrists.  
“With me, not for me, “Crowley answered. “Partners.”  
“While it suits you,” She accused, glaring at the King.  
“It will always suit me to have a demonic Winchester on my side,” Crowley laughed, watching as Faith awkwardly manoeuvred her bound hands into the sack.  
“Now what?” she asked.  Dean stepped forward tightened the mouth of sack around her wrists and put another over her head, securing it around her neck.  
Sam stirred next to them.  
“Faith?” He mumbled.  
“Sleeping beauty awakes,” Dean mocked.  
“It’s ok Sam,” she replied from inside the sack. “I’ll be fine.”  
“Dean, don’t do this,” Sam begged. Dean responded by kicking the fallen Winchesters head, knocking him out cold once again.  
“Dean,” Crowley chastised, “A deal is a deal.”  
“Your deal, not mine, I want him dead. He is annoying reminder of how weak I once was,” Dean complained.  
“And you can kill him, just not now. You mightn’t like it, but deals are an important commodity in hell. We can’t weaken a currency like that,” Crowley explained.  
“Whatever, lets just get out of here,” Dean said, standing behind Faith and placing a hand on each of her shoulder before the three of them disappeared, leaving Sam lying on the ground.  

Castiel noticed his link to Faith weakened before he heard Sam’s call. Not able to locate the Oubliette in his charge, he left heaven immediately and went to Sam. Still somewhat drunk and concussed Sam, was standing in the dark screaming the angel’s name.  
“You can stop now. I am here,” Cas said. “You’re drunk,” he noted, annoyed at Sam’s ill timing.  
“Yeah well you’re short,” Sam retorted.  
“Actually I am above average in height, you are just ridiculously tall,” the angel snapped back. Cas noticed Sam’s wound on his temple, where his head had hit the rock and placed his hand on him. Healing the gash from Dean’s boot, his concussion and sobering him up while also transporting them back to the bunker.  
Sam shook his head adjusting to his some what clearer mind.  
“Ah. You couldn’t have gotten rid of the hang over too?” He complained.  
“Yes, I could have, but you called me short,” the angel replied. Sam gave the angel an incredulous look, and then figured it was the least he deserved. “What happened? Where is Faith?” Cas asked.   
“Dean took her. He was with Crowley,” Sam explained.   
“Why? What good is she to them?”   
“I don’t know, but we have to get her back,” Sam added.   
“She is not on earth, my link to the Oubliette it is weak, very weak. Which means, she is, for now, still alive, but it also means they must have taken her to hell,” Cas explained.  
“So, lets go, we can rogue reaper our way in, I’ve done it before,” Sam said.   
“And then what? They haven’t brought Faith to Hell to have her rot in a cell. Where ever she is she is going to be either with Dean, Crowley or both and heavily guarded. It won’t be like when you freed Bobby, who was in the outskirts of hell. She is going to be a guest of the King,” Cas explained.  
“So what do you suggest?” Sam asked.   
“We rescue Metatron,” Cas said.   
“So we just leave Faith in hell, while we waste time saving the bastard who killed Dean. Are you serious?” Sam asked.   
“Look, Hannah has located him, but he is a warded apartment. No angel can gain access,” Cas replied.  
“Right, so you want me to go in, alone, take on who knows how many demons, while you winged assholes stay away all nice and safe,” Sam said.   
“No, not at all, if Marv is inside, even without his grace he is still an angel, strip away an angels grace and wings he appears human but he is not.  Its like painting stripes on a horse and calling it a zebra,” Cas said.   
“I must still be hung over because I’m not following you,” Sam interrupted.  
“For Marv to be able to remain in the apartment, he must have a counter warding on him, more than likely on his chest. It allows him to stay in there without the wardings affecting him. I just need you to get in, find him and send me a picture of it. Once I know it I can send a garrison of angels in to extract both of you,” Cas explained. “Metatron may know of way to help us with getting into Heaven and saving Faith, maybe saving Dean too,” he added.

  
  
Faith sat bound in the same chair Crowley used for his angel experiments. Her hands strapped to the chair had also been wrapped tightly in more burlap, ensuring she couldn’t grab at anyone who might get to close. Her head secured with the same metal brace he used for guiding in the needles.  
At Deans request there was also the addition of a gag on the grounds that she was a preachy know-it-all, who talked way too much.   
“So how does this work?” Crowley asked.   
“She touches someone, she drains their evil. The more she drains the weaker she gets, but the stronger Alistair gets. He managed to speak to me once. Let’s see if we can get him to do it again,” Dean said, walking over to Faith and taking out his Blade tore her shirt from collar to sleeve, exposing her shoulder. He was enjoying seeing Faith helplessly trapped like this. He leaned in close to her, “Tables have turned, you’re my prisoner now. Payback is a bitch,” he taunted.  Crowley opened the door to the room, showing Dean the corridor outside, it was lined with angry looking people.   
“These are some of our more nasty residents, real cream of the crop. No remorse for what they have done, believing they have been given the bums rush, eons of misery and torture for crimes they believe they were within their rights to commit, anything from genocide to paedophilia and everything in between,”  Crowley explained excitedly.   
“Perfect,” Dean said. “Let’s get started,” he added with a grin.   
Crowley escorted the first native of hell; a man in his fifties dressed in a singed and ruffled business suit, into the room and closed the door behind them.   
Crowley walked the man over to Faith, her eyes begged Dean to not allow this to happen. “Now dear, let’s see you in action,” Crowley said as he lifted the man’s hand and laid it on Faith bare shoulder. The man began to scream immediately, “Oh God, what have I done? How could I? All those people, their life savings, their homes,” He cried. Crowley held his hand in place as the banker dropped to his knees, sobbing like a child. Faith squirmed in the chair, all the man’s greed and anger racing through her.   
When she finally grew still Crowley released the still sobbing man and had one of his demons drag him from the room.   
“And let that be a lesson to you,” he jeeringly shouted after him. “This is great. All these arrogant SOB’s, who never showed any guilt, I can now finally break that one final wall and really stick it to them,” he said to Dean, full of excitement.   
“Bring in the next one, and it better be more than some blue collar wanker,” Dean ordered.   
“Hey, I’ll have you know he caused at least three people to take their own lives, along with having an autistic man thrown out of his home and on to the street,”  Crowley said a little disappointed that Dean wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was.   
“I want evil, cold hard evil,” Dean stated.  
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Crowley replied. He went back out to the corridor and passed by the first few in line, smiling when he came to the fifth candidate. “Perfect,” he said grabbing her by the arm. He introduced her as he walked her into the room. “Dean met Audrey Fitzpatrick, sold four of her own children and many others she found on the street in to the sex trade.  Responsible for forty seven deaths, all in one container she attempted to ship from Africa into the US, none on board older than sixteen,” He said, presenting her to him. “Evil enough for you?” He asked.   
“We’re getting warmer,” Dean confirmed. 

Crowley repeated his actions from before, but this time getting a response from Faith that seem to please Dean. Tears ran down her face as the malaise and callous disregard, this monster of a woman behind her, felt towards human life, bleed into her soul. Audrey screamed with the realisation of the terror she had caused to those she should have been trying to protect. Crowley placed a hand over her mouth, stifling her wails. Faith thrashed in the chair, the metal brace around her head cutting into her skull, blood spilling down her cheek, mixing with her tears. Again Crowley held the woman in place until Faith had stopped moving. She stared at Dean, willing her gaze to break through his darkness to any morsel of humanity he had left inside. He stared back at her, smiled and gave her a sly wink, as if he knew what she was attempting to do. “Next!” He shouted joyfully. 

 

 

Sam and Castiel stood across the road from apartment building where Crowley was holding Marv. “Why not just keep him in hell?” Sam asked, “Why risk keeping him on earth?”  
“Just as purgatory wasn’t meant for humans, hell cannot hold an angel, not willingly anyway. Metatron could expel himself from hell easier than he could that simple apartment. Crowley knows what he doing, he unfortunately is no fool,” Cas explained.  
“Ok then, what’s the plan?” Sam asked.   
“Ah, you do your Winchester thing?” Cas replied.  
“So you have no plan as to how I get in there sneak past demon guards and get to Metatron, is that what you are saying?” Sam accused.   
“I just figured, well, you and Dean always just go in guns blazing,” the angel said.   
“That was when there were two of us, we had each others backs,” Sam stated coldly. Castiel said nothing, having no solution for him. “If I die in there, you better find a way to bring me back,” Sam threatened, before storming off across the road.

The door man didn’t give Sam a second look as he entered the lobby of the building, he had to give it to Crowley, he didn’t allow his captive to slum it. He went to the elevator and pushed the call button. He readied himself as the doors opened with a ding but found the lift empty. “So far so good,” he said to himself. He hit the number for the eleventh floor, one below the penthouse where Metatron was housed. The elevator moved smoothly and quickly. The corridor was empty when he stepped out. Scanning left and right he spotted the fire escape at the rear of the building.  
He walked quietly to the doors and took the stairs up, pausing at the twelfth floor, easing the door open and risking a glance out into the corridor. There was a large man stationed outside the front door of the only apartment on this level. He knew killing him would have a small army of demons sent to the building before he could even get the door open, so instead of attempting to gain access that way, he followed the stairs up another flight to the roof.  Now outside, he ran to the edge of the building looking over to see if there was an easy way to drop down to the residents below.  
  
“I could have gotten you up here,” a voice said behind him. Sam turned quickly, his blade at the ready.  
“Shit, Cas, you scared the crap out of me,” he complained.  
“Sorry, I was only saying…” the angel began.  
“Yeah I heard you,” Sam said. “Now that you’re here, anyway you can get me closer? There is a balcony over there, but it’s about a twenty foot drop.”  
“Over course,” Cas replied tipping Sam on the forehead, Sam disappeared and reappeared where he had asked.  
“Angels,” he complained to himself as he looked through the large doors that opened onto the balcony, throwing himself quickly to the left and hiding behind the wall as large angry looking man walked into the empty room. Sam stood flat against the wall, controlling his breathing as he chanced another glance into the room.  
Marv followed the large man into the room, speaking animatedly.   
“All I’m saying is, how difficult is it to read a simple list? I have all the books you brought me today already. That’s why I gave you a list, to avoid this sort of problem.” The demon turned to his charge and snatched the booklist out of his hand and tossed it into the open fire next to them then left the room without saying another word. Marv sat defeated into his armchair, his back to the balcony.  
Sam, seizing his opportunity, slowly opened the doors and crept up behind the oblivious fallen angel. He gentle placed the tip of his blade against Metatron’s neck and put his free hand over his mouth stopping him from alerting the guards. Marv looked up and on seeing Sam raised his hands in the air.  Sam gave him a warning look and removed his hand putting his index finger to his lips.   
“Oh thank God,” Marv whispered, “You’ve got to get me out of here,” He pleaded.    
“That’s the plan,” he whispered back, “The counter warding, where is it?” he asked. Marv opened his shirt revealing a gruesome symbol carved into his chest. Sam stood in front of him, took out his phone and quickly snapped a picture of it.   
Before he was able to send it, he was picked up by his collar and thrown across the room, dropping the phone where he had stood.  
“Winchester!”  The demon snarled into a walkie-talkie. In an instant the room was full with demons, Sam couldn’t be sure how many, as he was grabbed off of the floor and knocked against the wall by the original angry demon, but from what he could see there were at least ten more all ready to have a go at an infamous Winchester. A fist hit him square in the jaw while another one made contact with his ribs, then another and another. He was dropped to the floor again while they took turns planting kick after kick to any exposed part of his body.   
The demons, for the most part, were ignoring Marv, too distracted with getting there pound of flesh from one half of the hunting duo, that had killed so many of their kind. Marv reached down still in his seat and grabbed the phone and hit send, completing the messages that Sam had begun. Within seconds the room doubled in population, as Castiel had promised, a garrison of angels appeared and began a fight that would put even the most vicious of bar brawls to shame. Not waiting for the fights conclusion Cas gabbed the broken and blooded Sam, dragging him towards Marv, he placed a hand on each of them and transported them back to the safety of the bunker.

  
“Where are we?” Marv complained, “This isn’t Heaven, you have to get me to safety, Crowley will not be happy I’ve escaped,” he demanded. Cas said nothing as he put Sam back into one piece.  
“Thanks Cas,” he said, then stood up, walked over to Marv landed a jab square on the face, causing blood to pour into his hands as he cupped his broken nose.  
“What the hell? Castiel, are you going to just let him do that?” Marv said in a nasally voice.  
“It would appear so,” the angel confirmed, giving Sam a thankful nod, relived the Winchester hadn’t done worse. Marv gave Cas a second look.  
“You’ve taken my grace,” he said. Cas didn’t reply, seeming uncomfortable with the accusation.  
“You had better be worth the time and trouble,” Sam interrupted threateningly.  
“What have you told Crowley?” Cas asked, overcoming his embarrassment, “What do they hope to achieve by taking Faith?” He added sternly.  
“Ok, this is going to seem bad, but honestly it could have been a lot worse, I was under duress, you have to understand,” Marv explained desperately. “I only told them what I told then so they wouldn’t, push me further for what they really wanted to know,” he said urgently, glancing at Sam repeatedly, terrified there may be another beating coming.   
“Get to the point, Marv,” Sam demanded, almost spitting the fallen angel’s name.   
“They wanted to know how to make more knights,” Marv explained.  Sam shot a worried look at Cas, but the angel motioned for him to remain silent, to not interrupt the scribe. “But I couldn’t let that happen, I had no idea that killing Dean would make him a knight, no not a knight, The Knight. You see I know how to make more knights from The Knight; I just had no idea how to make The Knight.” Sam listened impatiently to Marv’s babble, the scribe only stopping to take a breath through his mouth or dab at his blocked and still bleeding nose. “You have to understand if they found that out, there would be no stopping them, so I sent them on a wild goose chase,” he said, hoping his heroism would earn him favour with his new captors.   
“What did you do?” Sam demanded.   
“I merely suggested that if they had a hold of an Oubliette that they might be able to communicate with the demon inside and learn the secret of the knight that way,” Marv admitted.   
A second fresh punch landed exactly where Sam’s previous one had, this time from Cas. Sam looked at the angel with pride, not expecting that reaction from him. “So you sacrificed Faith, to save your own neck,” Cas yelled the shocked Marv.   
“It won’t work, they’ll get nothing out of her, her inmate can’t possess her, cant escape from her,” The swollen faced angel said.   
“And what do you think will happen when they realise that, they’ll just give her cab fare and send her on her way?” Sam snapped.    
“Are you sure of that, Metatron, that he can’t take control. He already spoke through her once, are you sure that if he gets strong enough that he can’t take over completely?” Castiel asked.  
“Well, no, most things with Oubliettes are theoretical, but in theory, yes I’m sure,” he said, flinching at a blow that didn’t materialise.  
“You are the lowest piece of scum, you know that?” Sam snarled.  
"Look, I messed up, I’m sorry, but I know more. I can help you fix this,” he teased.

 

“Twelfth time is a charm,” Crowley said cheerfully, as he headed off to fetch another one of hell’s finest.  
“There is something wrong, this is taking too long,” Dean said impatiently. “With me she was drained of power almost instantly, how is she still be in control?” He asked.  
“Well, you’re the Father of Murder, maybe ordinary evil just doesn’t compare. It might take some time, but we will eventually get there,” Crowley tried to reason with him.  
“Yeah maybe,” Dean agreed, but at the same time grabbed the King’s hand and slammed it down on Faiths shoulder. Crowley tried to pull away desperately.  
“Dean, no!!” He shouted, “Not me!!” Dean ignored Crowley’s pleas watching Faiths reaction instead. She thrashed more violently in the chair, thick blood pooling in the corners of her mouth and spilling from her nose.  
Crowley struggled feverishly but Dean was just too strong for him. His life and afterlife flashed before him all his selfishness all his hate and anger fell away leaving only empathy behind. He felt every ounce of physical and what was worse, emotional pain, he had ever caused hit him all at once. There was no let up, the waves of sorrow and regret hit him again and again.   
Faith’s eyes looked like tar, as the glistened in the shadowy room. Her head flew backwards as she let out an unnatural scream. Black smoke filled her open mouth taking in the shape of a hand as it passed over the threshold of her lips. The hand reaching upwards and lost its shape as Faith struggled to get a hold of centuries of torment she was absorbing from Crowley while also trying to get a grip on the uprising from within her own soul.   
She was running out of steam and Alistair knew it, he was holding back and he had held off long enough to build up enough power that as she faltered he unleashed his reserves. The smoke hand split into two forming a perfect pair, as they stretched further towards their freedom.    
Faith was smothered, no air passed to her lungs, blocked by the growing smoke. Blood poured like tears from her eyes now as well as her mouth and nose. She convulsed in the chair, her bonds cutting at her flesh. She was loosing, she knew it and there was nothing she could do about it. 

 

“You had better talk fast, because unlike Castiel, I have no qualms about killing you right here and now,” Sam threatened. Before Marv had a chance to speak, Cas stumbled forward, Sam catching him before he fell to the floor. “What’s wrong Cas, are you ok?” Sam asked.  
“Its not me, it Faith,” he moaned. Marv looked at Cas curiously.   
“You’ve become the Oubliette’s guardian?” Marv said. “Castiel, do you still have the stone?” He asked urgently. Cas nodded, still struggling to get upright. “You’re linked to her, the Oubliette. Use the stone, it doesn’t matter where she is, you can still power her,” he stressed.   
“How?” Cas wheezed.  
“I don’t know, just do it,” Marv yelled. Cas took the stone from him pocket and held it tight in his palm, willing its power through him to Faith, where ever she was. He felt its warmth flow through him and into universe. He squeezed his hand tighter forcing as much of the stones strength as he could access out into the void. 

 

  
Crowley was on his knees, behind the Oubliette, but still Dean held his hand in place, a stone cold look on his face, ignoring Crowley’s cries for mercy. Faith was done, he knew it and she knew it. The pain had gradually taken her sight, and now in the darkness she could feel nothing but anguish boiling up inside her.  
Draining Dean had been different, he was powerful yes, but it was all potential evil, he, unlike Crowley, had not had the opportunity to fulfil that potential. Crowley has had three hundred odd years or so of demonic existence. However, as time in hell passed differently, he had had close to forty millennia working from the pit. 

And then there was Alistair, he was something else altogether, ancient even in earth terms but he was also pure and unadulterated cruelty, such as Faith had never fathomed before. She couldn’t see it, but between the elongated arms that now stretched from her dislocated jaw, was a mouth, nose and chin, Alistair’s final form before Sam had killed him reconstructing itself as he inched forward.  
It started as a whisper, one she thought she had imagined. But it grew louder. Castiel’s voice filled her mind, so full of his voice, his angel voice that there was no room left from her to process the pain and fear she felt. His words were Enochian but she under them all the same.   
“Fight it Faith, I am coming for you, you just need to hold on. I promise I will come for you” The words were full of power, full of strength. She drew from them as she had been drawing Crowley evil from him.  She did what she was told. She fought. She held on. And she finally felt Alistair slip, just enough. She pulled at him, gripping tightly. He had just enough of a hold left to open his quickly dissipating mouth and yell, as he was dragged back inside her and locked away once again.  
Dean looked at her, rejecting what he had just seen. Releasing Crowley’s hand, he turned to the still sobbing King.   
“What ever happens next, you do not let me leave here until I am me, this me again. You got it?” He commanded. Crowley managed a meek nod, not an ounce of evil left in him. The nod was a lie, simply to appease the terrible knight towering over him. As soon as he had a chance he was driving an angel blade through his own chest. ‘How could he continue to exist knowing what he had done?’  
Dean placed his one hand on Faiths shoulder, the other gripping his Blade and braced himself for what was to come. But nothing happened, no rush of guilt, no siphoning of evil. Faith just sat there, not reacting at all.   
“What the hell?” Dean screamed. “How is this happening?” Get that asshole Metatron down here now,” he demanded.

 

  
Cas stood upright, “She is weak but alive,” he said. “I was able to reach her.”  
“How did know what to do?” Sam asked.  
“The stone, it showed me, where she was, how to help her,” Castiel looked at the blue/green stone in is hand. “It did something else also. I don’t know how but it has directed all her Oubliette power inwards.”  
“It is temporary,” Marv explained “Almost like restarting a computer, a defence mechanism. She will reboot soon enough.”  
“We have to get her out of there,” Sam said, turning to Metatron. “You said you knew how to fix this. How?”   
“That girl, the Oubliette. She is the key,” he said, now realising, how desperate the situation was, if Alistair managed to take control, he could school Dean on how to over run the world with knights. The only reason Lucifer hadn’t done it, was that back then, his father was still around to keep him in check.   
“Her soul, if you can empty it, as Dean is attempting, you might be able to transfer the Oubliette from her to Dean. Again this is all theoretical but it might be enough to contain the mark, making your brother human once again,” he explained.   
“And what would happen to Faith?” Cas asked.   
“I have no idea,” Metatron admitted. “Her soul should be ok, albeit now a mortal one. But I can not be sure. I do know that had she run out of power while the Oubliette was still active within her she would not have made it, but swapping it out, it might survivable,” he said, not filling either of his audience with confidence.  
“That’s a big ask of Faith, giving up her power like that, risking her life to save Dean, a guy she only met a few days ago,” Sam said. “Should we even we ask it of her?”  
“She’s an Oubliette,” Marv said impatiently, “That’s what they do, they’re all about duty, the sacrifice for the greater good.” Sam looked at Metatron not liking how he spoke of Faith, as if she was no more than a tool for Heaven to use as the angels saw fit.  
“We won’t have a chance to ask her if we can’t get her out of hell.” Cas said.  
“The stone,” Marv replied, “Cas, think about it, what you have there, something touched by the hand of God, that is more powerful than any of us can fathom. You should have more than enough power to get in and out of hell, it won’t be easy but it might be possible. The stones were given to the angels to power, but also to protect the Oubliette, it will help you when it is needed,” Metatron said.  
“Cas, you can’t consider going it to Hell alone,” Sam interjected.  
“You did,” the angel retorted.  
“Yeah and you said yourself that this was different,” the Winchester countered.   
“What choice do I have? I vowed to take on the responsibility of the Oubliette and now I have the means to attempt a rescue. Besides I promised her I was coming for her,”

 

  
Dean stood in the centre of what was once Marv’s penthouse. An entire exterior wall was missing from the south side of the apartment lying on the side walk several floors below, and there was almost nothing inside that wasn’t either still smouldering or in pieces on the floor.  
“Who did this?” He demanded to know, from an unfortunate demon who had managed to survive the heavenly ambush.  
“Sam Winchester and a whole army of angels,” he said lying on the floor, an angel blade pinning him in place.  
 Dean roared like an animal before beginning to repeatedly plunge his Blade into the demon, not stopping even after the body was lifeless beneath him.  He was furious. His Blade no longer needing to feed his anger, it now came from within, perpetually fuelling his rage. Blood covered his face and arms and he let out another animalistic bellow, which caused the sky to darken and thunder rolled above him.  
The crash from the clouds seemed to help snap Dean some what back into reality. He stopped pummelling what now looked more like road kill than a man.  
He stood, breathing rapidly, his mouth clenched tightly. Spinning around he faced the two demons that had accompanied him from Hell. In his blood filled rage, he wrapped a hand over the mouth of each and let out another deep throaty roar. Again, the sky screamed along with him as lightning cracked and lit up the night.  For a moment, both the Mark and Deans eyes shone bright red. In response so did the eyes of the two demons. The moment passed and the crimson drained from their eyes, but instead of disappearing, it continued, snaking down their cheeks, just beneath the skin and settled on the side of their necks, in a perfect yet miniature version of Dean’s mark.   
Letting go of them, the demons both took a knee in front of Dean.   
“Welcome, my knights,” he said. “Stand and know that you need never kneel before anyone again.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Two demons were now stationed outside the room where Dean and Crowley had been attempting to drain Faith. They had been reluctant at first to detain their King especially on the order of a knight but it took one look at Crowley and they obediently took up their posts, ensuring their demonic leader could neither leave nor cause injury to him self.   
Crowley had remained behind Faith on his knees for some time after Dean, livid at the news of Metatron’s escape, had left them. The king wept like a child, unable to stop, overcome with guilt and grief. Over time Faith slowly regained consciousness, she moaned quietly as she struggled to loosen her restraints. Crowley looked up at her, his need for any sort of redemption suddenly outweighing his sorrow. He pulled himself off the ground and stood by her side. She flinched as he laid his hand on hers and then gently untied her wrists and ankles, before mercifully unclipping her head brace. Faith looked cautiously at Crowley still unsure of his intent. Then using her arms as support, she stood and succeeded in taking one step before falling forward into Crowley’s arms. He was emotionally and physically exhausted but he managed to slowly lower them both to the ground, leaning against the wall he allowed her head to rest on his lap. She silently looked up at him; she had no strength to talk and was using all her will to fight against her heavy eyelids. He tenderly brushed matted bloody hair from her face and then fished a handkerchief from his top pocket. He began to dab at her head wound with one hand while the other absentmindedly continued to stroke her hair. Faith allowed the tactility of the moment to take over, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as she fell into a deep restless sleep. Whether or not Crowley was aware of this fact he began to speak.   
“You know, it was never about the power, for me,” he started with a reminiscent chuckle, “even in the beginning, with my own personal soul deal, it wasn’t about vanity either, as most people suspect. I’m aware of the whisperings of my fellow demons and human alike. In truth, I just wanted to be liked,” he admitted swapping the handkerchief from Faiths wounds to his own eyes, wiping away the dampness. “As a human, I was lonely, always alone. Even Gavin’s mother was only with me because I was paying her,” he opened his suit jacket and gripping hold of the lining and ripped it clean out from one side. Tearing the expensive maroon silk in to two pieces he reached for Faiths hand, her touch still not having any more effect on him. He tenderly wrapped her wrist where the leather strap had torn at her skin. “So when my time was up and the hounds come for me it was almost a relief. I worked my way up the ranks, aiming always for a crossroads position. Sure I was damning their souls to an eternity of torment, but in the short term I was giving people what they wanted and in my own way it was like I was helping them and for the most part they seemed to enjoy my company and I theirs.” He finished bandaging her other wrist and went back to playing with her hair. “But what I came to realise was, those people didn’t like me, they were at first using me then eventually feared me. But even that for a while was enough. So when Lucifer fell back into the cage and hell was in a state of confusion, I took the throne. Even the demons had to pretend to like me then, again purely out of fear or self interest,” he blew his nose on the handkerchief and discarded it.   
“Then came those bloody Winchesters, they certainly didn’t fear me, not the way they should have anyway. Mind you, they didn’t pretend to like me either and I sort of always respected them for that. If I’m honest, I probably could have killed both of them a dozen times over, but I could never bring myself to actually do it,” he smiled to himself nostalgically. “Then there were the trials, I swear there was something between Moose and I. He may well have killed me after he had succeeded in curing but I deeply believe he wouldn’t have done it happily. Even after that, after the angels fell, Dean didn’t kill me either.” He fell silent as Faith stirred on his lap; she weakly opened her eyes and looked up at him again, through a haze of confusion and exhaustion. He rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand, “Its ok,” he said softly. “Try and rest, Dean will be back soon and you will need your strength” he added. Again she closed her eyes, never fully waking up or even understanding where she was. After a minute or two Crowley began his story again, “Saving Sam from Gadreel, I’m sure of it, finally created some sort of mutual respect between Dean and I, even if he will never admit it to himself. And that’s just it, isn’t it, if I’m honest with myself I don’t think I care all that much about the knights. It may be better if we never successfully create anymore. There is an opportunity here for me to have what Sam and Dean have always had. Companionship, someone to have my back no matter what. Crowley and Dean, fighting the, well I guess, the not so good fight! Hunting people, Killing things, the Family Business,” Crowley’s voice became harder and harsher, “Hell’s Business, the two of us, reining fear and pain down on anyone or anything that gets in our way,” he was starting to feel like his old self again. “All powerful and unstoppable,” he laughed. “Actually, screw it, with an army of knights at our disposal nothing on heaven or earth could stop us.”   
He slid himself from beneath the still sleeping Faith and started banging heavily on the door. When it opened, he roared at the demons outside, leaving them no doubt that their king had recovered from his weakened state.  
“You two get her strapped back in that chair,” he said pointing to Faith. “Where is my knight?” He bellowed as he stormed off down the hall, angry that Dean had subjected him to the Oubliettes power but more so at himself for his open show of weakness. “I want to speak to my Knight!”

When Dean returned to hell he found Crowley, back to his old self, in his office waiting for him.   
“Well did you retrieve Metatron?” he asked in a crabby tone that had Dean not been in such a good mood would have caused the knight to snap his king in two.   
“Better,” he replied, standing aside, as his fledgling knights made their grand entrance. Crowley didn’t immediately understand what he was looking at, not until Dean turned one around and pulled back the demon’s collar to reveal the Mark that had eventually settled on the nape of his neck. Crowley stood in awe and shock.  
“How?” he exclaimed. The father of murders proud smile faded a little.   
“I don’t know. It all happened so quickly. I’ve tried it again and nothing,” Dean admitted. Crowley didn’t seem too concerned, he walked from behind his desk and then around the knights, eyeing them as if judging a newly acquired thoroughbred.  
“No matter, if it can be done once, it can be done again. At least we now know it’s not just a pipe dream,” he suggested happily.  
“First things first, I need to kill the angel and the Winchester,” Dean said coldly, “I will not allow them to interfere again.” Crowley tilted his head as if he was weighing up the pros and cons of Deans suggestion, then finally replied with, “Ok, fine with me.”   
“Little brother Sammy will be the first soul on my rack,” Dean confirmed with hate in his voice. Crowley had to admit that even he was a little surprised at Dean’s total lack of sentimentality towards his brother but what ever it took to keep his number one knight happy.   
Before they could discuss it any further they heard crashing and screaming coming from outside the office. The King, Dean and his new knights ran to see what the commotion was. They didn’t need to go far, at the end of the corridor; bearing down on them was a familiar and yet very different Castiel. Although he still resembled his vessel, he was nearly twice as tall, his head brushing against the high ceiling of Crowley’s mansion as he walked towards them. His wings were no longer hidden, and extended as far as the confines of the walls would allow, folding back in on themselves engulfing all and any space around him. His eyes shone blue and his voice was booming.  
“I HAVE COME FOR THE OUBLIETTE!” He announced, his very presence shook the building to its core, smashed windows and cracked masonry. Dean and his knights stood ready to confront the angel. “I DO NOT WISH TO HURT YOU DEAN WINCHESTER, BUT STAND BETWEEN ME AND MY CHARGE AND YOU WILL LEAVE ME NO CHOICE BUT TO ANNIHILATE YOU,” he threatened, his pace never slowing.  
“You may look impressive, angel. But you do not have the means to kill me or my knights. We are immortal and the oubliette is going no where!” Dean screamed back at him, over the rumble that followed the Castiel. Crowley took a step back inside his office; this fight was between the knights and the angel, no point in him getting in the way. Dean held his ground, the First Blade in his hand, as Castiel continued to advance. He carried no weapon, but could feel the heat and power of the stone, that he held tightly in his hand, running through him. The knight at Deans left stepped forward first, attacking with an angel blade, which he sliced through Castiel’s wing and lodged deep into the angel’s shoulder. White light poured from the wound but he never slowed, swatting the knight aside with his wing, the deceptively soft looking feathers were at the tip as sharp as they were strong, tearing away at the knight’s flesh as he fell. Castiel stepped over the fallen demon as the second knight attacked. He lunged at the terrifying angel, consciously avoiding the razor sharp wings. When he was close enough, Cas raised his hand, palm forward, sending the knight flying backwards, past Dean and through the wall at the far end of the corridor. If Dean was concerned or surprised, he hid it well, still holding his ground.  
“I see you’ve got a few new tricks, Cas. It will be a shame to kill you just as you are getting interesting,” Dean mocked.   
“THE CASTIEL YOU KNOW WAS SIMPLY MY VESSEL. YOU FORGET THAT BENEATH THE FLESH AND BONE IS A SOLDIER OF HEAVEN. YOU MAY BE IMMORTAL AND POWERFUL BUT I HAV MY FATHERS POWER ON MY SIDE, YOU HAVE NOTHING MORE THAN THE MARK, THE REMNANTS OF MY BROTHERS CHILDISH ANGER.” He was almost on top of Dean now, who attempted to slash at the angel with the First Blade. Cas caught Dean easily by the wrist, preventing the jaw bone from hitting its intended mark. With his other hand he took Dean by the neck, the stone still in his hand, pressing against the knight’s throat and lifted him up to eye level. “I will find a way to save you,” he said in his vessels voice, before releasing the stones power into Dean. The knight’s eyes turned a pearly white before his body went limp. Cas dropped his old friend on the ground and continued down the corridor, sensing Faith before he had reached the room where she was being held. The doors seem to bow inwards as the angel drew closer and smashed into pieces as he stooped to enter. He placed his hand on Faiths as she stared up at him in complete and total awe. When she finally managed to look away for her angel, they were safely out of hell and back in the bunker. Cas was standing next to her as his human self once more.   
Faith, bloody and broken as she was gave Castiel as massive smile and threw her arms around him.   
“That was awesome, you were awesome,” she said as she held on to him tightly, almost afraid to let go in case she was dreaming all this. He embraced her back, taking the opportunity to heal and recharge her as he did so. When she finally let go, her face was clear of blood and the wounds on her wrists were no more.   
“Thank you Cas,” she said, for the first time referring to him as the Winchesters did. “Your voice, I heard you, it was the only thing that kept me going down there; I knew you would come for me,” she then turned to Sam excitedly, “You should have seen him Sam; he was terrifying and totally bas ass,” she said proudly. Cas blushed.   
“I was just doing my duty, what I had promised,” he said modestly.   
“What about Dean?” Sam asked after he welcomed Faith back with a hug.  
“He is still alive, but he has managed to create his own knights,” Cas answered.  
“What?” Both Sam and Faith asked together.  
“How?” Faith continued, “He never got through to Alistair.”  
“I don’t know how but he had two knights with him,” Cas replied. “They are fresh and unexpended but knights none the less.  
“Hold on a sec,” Sam said. “You took on three Knights of Hell?” he asked, “Holy crap Cas. That is badass.” 

Dean was shrouded in darkness and silence, he could still feel his Blade in his hand his fingers wrapped tightly around its hilt but he could no longer feel the affects of it, no hunger, no anger, and no bloodlust. They were all still present within him but the Blade felt like nothing but dead bone. He looked down to his hand and blade but in the darkness he saw nothing.   
“What did that angel do?” He shouted into the endless blackness. He jumped, startled as a hand gently ran down his cheek, manicured nails pressing against his skin, making their presence known without causing any damage. It made its way down Dean’s neck and chest finally resting below his ribs, the fingers caressing his tight stomach. “Who’s there?” he asked in a whisper not resisting, more than just a little turned on by the touch of the unknown presence in the darkness with him.   
“Don't you recognise me?” A seductive female voice replied. “Does my touch no longer cause an unquenchable thirst within you?” She asked, her hand slowly moving lower tucking the tips of her fingers into the waste of his jeans. Even that small amount of contact sent Deans blood pumping. He knew this feeling and recognised the hunger it caused in him.  
“It’s not possible,” Dean replied, but also noticing that he no longer had a hold of his Blade.   
“Why not, Dean,” she replied. “Are we not in your head? What do you desire more than my touch?” She asked, her other hand joining the first as she opened his belt and popped the top button of his trousers.   
“Nothing,” he confirmed breathlessly. The hands retreated suddenly.  
“Then why treat me like this, allowing that angel to hurt me so?” she asked. Dean reached in front of him, hoping to find the source of the voice and entice her back to him.   
“Where are you?” he asked when he couldn’t locate her.   
“I'm weak,” she replied. “I need you to feed me, to heal me, as I have done for you,” she said. Again he felt her hand on his cheek, guiding his face towards hers. Lips now pressed against his, kissing hard and aggressively. Dean responded in kind. He picked her up and a pair of legs wrapped around his waist. Disengaging from his kiss, her lips travelled along his check, resting next to his ear, she nipped at his lobe before whispering to him once again, “Feed me and I will reward you with all the progeny you desire,” his short coarse beard ran a long her shoulder as he kissed her neck.  
“I promise,” he answered, looking for her lips to kiss her again, but he only met with empty space. There was no one in his arms, he was alone in the blackness again, his First Blade back safely in his hand.   
“Dean?” A new voice shattered his dark world.   
“Dean?” Crowley asked again, shaking his knight by the shoulder, snapping Dean back into reality. Dean sat up sharply, looking around him adjusting his jeans to disguise any unsightly telltale bulges. “What the hell? Are you alright?” Crowley asked.   
“Fine,” Dean replied pushing him away, suitably frustrated. “Souls, demons, angels, I don't care what. Bring them to me and then keep them coming,” Dean ordered as he stormed off. Crowley watched him exit, his two new underlings limping behind him.   
“Just because you’re a Knight now, doesn't mean you can forget your manners,” he muttered after Dean, as soon as he was sure he was out of ear shot.

Faith after an extended shower had returned to the group. Sam and Cas both looked more serious that she would have liked.  
“Oh God, what now?” She asked nervously.  
“We need to speak to you about something,” Castiel began.  
“Alright?” she replied nervously.  
“Look we know this is way too much to ask of anyone, and we wouldn’t if there was any other way,” Sam added.   
“Ok?” Faith said, not liking the way this conversation was going at all.  
“We may have figured out a way of helping Dean, permanently,” Sam said.  
“Right, so why are you two talking like that’s a bad thing?” She asked.  
“Because it would mean a huge sacrifice on your part,” Cas said flatly.   
“Ok, guys, you both need to stop beating around the bush and get to the point, because you’re starting to frighten me,” Faith said.   
“Oh for the love of God,” the Scribe moaned still tied to a chair in the corner of the room, “we’ll be here all night at this rate,” he said butting in. “It’s you, well more specifically your power; they need to remove it from your soul and put it into Deans. Make him the Oubliette, that way it can constantly contain the mark from within,” the Scribe explained. Faith looked at Sam and then Cas in shock.  
“Look Faith, we totally understand if you don’t want to do it, I mean, this is huge,” Sam told her stepping between her and Metatron.   
“I know, as you said you wouldn’t ask if there was any other way,” she replied quickly, dismissing him. “What would happen to me?” she asked Metatron ignoring the others, aware she would get the plain truth from him.   
“We don’t know for sure, to be honest. We assume you would survive, but there would be no more lifetimes, this one would be It,” he confirmed. Faith sat down, brushing her still wet hair behind her ears. Sam approached her again handing her a tumbler of whiskey but this time said nothing.   
“Thanks,” she responded absentmindedly. The rest of the group remained silent allowing the Oubliette time to get her thoughts clear in her head.   
“Will it work?” she asked. Again Metatron answered.  
“In theory, yes,” he replied. Again she went silent, weighing things up, when she spoke again, her voice steady and resolute.  
“I’ve lived many lifetimes; so many, I’m not even sure of the exact number anymore. Each life, I obediently answered when duty called, I never complained, I never fussed, I rarely had cause to,” she looked up at Sam. “Did you know? I’ve been a mother in more than half of my lives, a partner and lover in even more?” She said with a sad smile. “I lived always with the knowledge that there was some sort afterlife for everyone I loved, and that gave some me solace when I lost them but I also knew my soul would never meet them there. When they were gone, yes, they went to a better place, but for me they were gone forever,” Sam watched as tears filled her eyes. “I never dreamt there could an end, I never dared even contemplate it. Four thousand years is a long time, if I’m honest, my soul is tired and my heart still aches for those that I’ve lost. Perhaps its time I retire,” she looked to Castiel and then to Sam. “I’m in,” she said before draining her whiskey. Sam stepped forward and hugged her. Holding tightly, no words felt enough to convey his gratitude.  
Over Sam’s shoulder Faith watched the angel shuffle his feet and frown to himself. She pulled away from the embrace and addressed the angel.   
“What else are you not telling me, Cas?”   
“There is also the matter of Alistair,” Cas said bluntly.  
“What about him?” Faith asked.   
“If we want to move the Oubliette power from your soul to Deans, it must be empty,” Cas explained.   
“What?” Faith exclaimed.   
“Alistair must be released from your soul, he must be freed,” he answered.   
“Why the hell am I only hearing about this now?” Sam said angrily.  
“Because I knew how you would react, this is not an option, Sam; this is the only hope we have of saving your brother. Allowing Alistair to escape, all be it temporality, is a high but justifiable price,” The angel reasoned. Sam walked the length of the room, shaking his head to himself.   
“Freeing him from the Oubliette, it doesn’t necessarily mean you need allow him to go free,” Metatron said, “There is another solution, although for you it may be equally unthinkable,” he added.  
“Go on?” Sam prompted.  
“None of you can be possessed, Sam I assume you are inked, Faith, your very soul is warded, Oubliette power or not, and Cas you’re an angel. But if you were provide Alistair with a human to possess, you should be able contain him temporarily at least, long enough to save Dean anyway,” The Scribe suggested. “Then deal with Alistair when it is all over.”   
“Could Dean take him back in?” Sam asked.  
“I don’t believe, no. The oubliette will be working at full power to contain the Mark, there would be no room or spare juice to take on another source of evil,” Metatron explained. “We would have to find a way to kill him.”   
“But that’s basically a human sacrifice for who ever we throw in there with him!” Faith replied appalled.   
“Yeah, it is,” Sam replied coldly. “But how many more will die because we’ve released Alistair into the world or by not saving Dean. I don’t like this anymore than you but like every other crappy decision we’ve had to make over the last week or so, we don’t have a choice, we are in way too deep now to start using common sense as a guide,” he said.   
“Would it make you two feel better about the whole thing if we could get a truly awful human, one that was destined to go to hell anyway?” Cas suggested. Faith and Sam exchanged looks.   
“Honestly, yeah a little,” Faith replied for both of them.

Dean had been in the ‘Kill Room’ as Crowley had taken to calling it for over twenty four hours. A seemingly endless supply of the damned and demonic had been summoned for and disposed of over that time. Crowley had stayed in the room to witness the first fifteen or twenty kills before he has seen enough. Not that the violence disturbed him, he just grew bored. Sure Dean was a master at his craft, there was no doubt about it, but after a while his style and artistry was replaced with animalistic destruction and that got repetitive. Even still from where he sat in his office he could hear his Knight’s frustrated roars as attempt after attempt failed to produce for him a new knight.   
The room was now more blood than anything else, bodies were removed one after the other by his knights, clearing space for the next slaughter. Dean was red from head to toe, save for his white teeth and his black eyes, he looked and indeed was terrifying. He could finally feel his Blade again, it was powering up, although so far not enough to create another knight. So he continued, it was only a matter of time; he knew that, she told him that. He didn’t tire; he didn’t stop. He tore, he sliced, he destroyed and he would continue to do so until he had what he wanted, what he had what she had promised.   
He drove his Blade into the heart of an elderly man, Swastika tattoos covering his chest, not that it mattered to Dean who he was or what he had done, he was in front of him and his Blade, that was all the mattered. It was then Dean heard it, even in hell, where there was no sky, he still heard it, as did Crowley. Thunder rolled through his mansion as each room was lit up by impossible lightning. The king ran to the Killing Room and watched as Dean turned to the one of the waiting demons and placed his hand across her mouth. The same process as before followed, the Mark lit up and Dean’s eyes turned crimson, the demon before him looked back though eyes of the same colour before the mark travelled down her cheek and disappeared beneath her collar. Instinct took over and she knelt before her new commander. Dean took her by the elbow and urged her to her feet with a fatherly smile.   
“Go, join your brothers,” he ordered softly. She nodded solemnly and left. Dean turned to Crowley. “More,” he demanded. 

 

Sam and Faith had been attempting to formulate a plan since Cas had left in search of a suitable victim for Alistair.   
“I know how he thinks; he’ll smell a trap a mile off,” Sam explained, abandoning yet another plan. They were no closer to figuring out how to separate Dean from his Knights and trap him so that they could transfer the power of the Oubliette.   
“No matter what we do it’s going to be a trap, there is no other option. It just a matter of coming up with a trap he won’t see or predict” Faith responded. Sam smiled and jumped up and kissed her on the forehead.   
“You’re a genius!” he exclaimed.   
“Yeah, I sure am,” Faith agreed, “Ah, how exactly?” she asked.  
“That’s just it; he expects a trap, the only other option would be to go on the run, no aliases, no motels, and no credit cards. Completely off the grid. Something we would never consider. And that’s exactly what we have to do. Disappear leave him stewing, get him frustrated. Then only when he is furious do we pop our heads up and let him find us, he will assume his superior intellect and hunting skills found us, his hubris will cloud his judgement. As I said, knight or not, I know my brother, get him frustrated enough and when he finally locates us he will be so eager and so blinded by his need to capture us he’ll run in head long at us without so much as a second thought,” Sam said excitedly. Faith smiled at him, happy to see even a glimmer of hope back in his eyes. “And I know exactly where we can to go. It even gives us a means of trapping Dean too,” he added with a sly grin, jumping up and grabbing his phone. A quick search found the number he was looking for. It rang a couple of times before a friendly voice answered.  
“Sam Winchester. As lovely as it is to hear from you, I have yet to have you ring me with good news. What’s up?” she asked with a reassuring mix of maternal affection and trepidation.   
“Jody, good to hear your voice too, but yes I’m looking for your help,” Sam admitted.  
“Shoot. What do you need?” she replied, always direct and to the point.   
“Just some info, Bobby’s old place, is that still in rebate? Is it still empty” Sam asked  
“Yep, turns out the lawyers are having an awful time tracking down the benefactors of his will, his two nephews, Bill Black and Scotty Moore. Really, I mean you three and your pseudonyms. I’ve cleared the place out, what you didn’t already take I’ve put in storage for you. Are you looking for something in particular? I might have it,” she offered.   
“No just looking for somewhere to lay low for few days,” Sam said.  
“Ah, geez Sam, you need somewhere, you know there is always a roof and hot meal waiting for you boys at my place,” Jody offered.   
“Thanks, but not this time. Listen, something big might be following us to Bobby’s. They could use you to get to us, mightn’t be the worst idea to maybe get out of Sioux Falls for a few,” Sam suggested.   
“Hey, a Winchester tells me to run, I’m gone. I’ve a sister a few towns over. I guess I’m over due a visit,” she said. “Sam, whatever is going on, be careful, and maybe give me a shout when it’s done so I know my boys are ok?” she added.   
“You got it. Thanks Sheriff,” Sam said hanging up. He turned back to Faith, “Ok, he will find us there, but it will take him a while, long enough to annoy him and time for us to get ready,” Sam said.   
“Ready how?” Faith asked, but before Sam could answer Castiel returned, he didn’t look happy.   
“What’s wrong?” Faith said concerned. “Could you not find someone, you know, to be Alistair’s…” she was uncomfortable phrasing the sentence.   
“I believe meat suit is the term most commonly used,” Cas answered “And yes I found someone. It unfortunately seems the world is not in short supply of worthy candidates,” he added gloomily.   
“Do we even want to know?” Sam asked.  
“Probably not, just take my word, possessed or not, this man was geared towards only evil,” the angel replied. “We need to find somewhere safe to release Alistair, away from here,” he added.   
“Funny you should say that,” Sam replied. “I believe I know the perfect spot.” Cas looked to Sam expectantly, “Bobby’s,” Sam added. The angel looked confused.  
“I though that place was destroyed,” he asked.   
“Burnt to the ground, yes. But what was below ground, encased in iron, that survived,” Sam replied and the angel smiled to show he understood and agreed.   
“Anyone want to fill me in?” Faith asked.  
“Bobby was a brilliant but paranoid old kook, who, in his infinite wisdom, built a demonic panic room beneath his house,” Sam explained. “The place is perfect for both releasing Alistair and trapping Dean.”  
“Ok,” Faith said clenching her jaw, “So then, this is really happening, we are going free one of the scariest demons I’ve encountered in all my lifetimes,” she added. Sam chuckled,   
“Seems that way alright, are you still ok with this,” he asked. Faith nodded her replied not trusting that her voice would betray her fear.   
“Ok then, we should be going; the first logical stop for Dean is going to be this bunker, the sooner we clear out the better,” Cas suggested  
“What are we going to do with him?” Sam said looking at Metatron, still tied to the chair. “We can’t bring him with us.”   
“He has been invaluable to us Sam. I don’t like it any more than you do, but perhaps he could still be of use to us,” Castiel suggested.   
“I have to agree with Sam on this one. If I drain Dean, we don’t want the anger of seeing the angel that killed him setting him off again,” Faith added.   
“Well we can’t leave him here,” Castiel responded.   
“Again, might I once again offer an opinion?” Metatron asked. Sam turned away saying nothing, in his head Marv, even with his new helpful attitude, should have been long since death.”  
“Go on,” Castiel allowed.   
“Maybe I should remain here, as a distraction to Dean, it might buy some more time,” Marv said.   
“No way, you would rat us out in a heart beat to save your own skin,” Sam scoffed.  
“Look,” Marv continued speaking to Castiel only. “I need to redeem myself, in any way I can. I’ve sat on the fence for far too long, my head stuck in books ignoring the horror story that was going on around me, and when I finally get involved I royally screw up heaven and earth,” he turned back to Sam. “Let me stay here, wait for your brother. I can’t and won’t promise I can hold out for too long but I will buy you as much as I can,” Marv pleaded. The three of them all looked to Sam, it was his decision.  
“Fine,” he conceded “Dean will eventually figure out where we are anyway, at least this way we have a small guarantee that he will be heading in the right direction,” Sam agreed. “Ok, pack light everyone, we leave in ten,” he added speaking on it no further. 

Dean eventually emerged from his Kill Room, followed out by eight Knights, each of them, including Dean, wearing black soulless eyes. Crowley met Dean and his new army in the corridor. “What now?” The king asked. Dean pushed him aside.  
“The Winchester, the Angel, the Scribe and the Oubliette,” he said as he continued walking.   
“I know where one of them is,” Crowley offered to the back of Dean’s head, eager to be of used to him once again. The Knight turned.   
“Which?” he growled angrily.   
“The Scribe,” Crowley replied. “Metatron”  
“Where?” he snapped.   
“The bunker, he is alone, they abandoned him there. It wasn’t easy but while you were…” Crowley rethought he next word. “…busy. I’ve defused the place so that you can enter and exit unheeded,” The king explained. Dean nodded his approval.   
“And the others?” Dean asked.  
“Gone into hiding from what we can tell, Metatron is not talking, yet, but we’ll find them soon enough,” Crowley promised. Again Dean nodded.   
“I hate to bring it up, but the Knights… my knights,” Crowley continued. “When do I get to play with them?” he asked. Dean flashed his teeth before he spoke, clearly annoyed by Crowley’s presumption. He stepped towards him and in full view of demons and knights alike took his king by his throat and raised him up to his eye level.   
“They are my knights,” Dean hissed.   
“But I am your king,” Crowley managed.   
“Yes, you are the king, a figure head with no more power than I permit. I am in charge. You still exist only because I allow it. Don’t ever forget that. Do not over step your mark,” Dean warned, dropping Crowley and leaving with his knights in tow.   
Crowley fixed this ruffled collar and with as much dignity as he could muster walked back into his office. He wasn’t too sure how he felt about the whole situation, it certainly wasn’t panning out as he had hoped but still a figurehead king wasn’t the worst out come he could have envisioned, at least he was still a king of sorts. Dean would eventually, once he had finished off the Hulk and the rest of the Avengers, settle into his little slice of hell and Crowley would then get his army of knights. However he should probably have a back up plan just in case, there may not have been a way to kill Dean, but there sure as hell must be a way to control him.

 

Sioux Falls was about a six hour drive from the bunker, but Castiel had them there in seconds, just before dawn. They had left Metatron in one of the bedrooms, books and food enough for a few days, with a devils trap cuff around his ankle attached to a chain long enough for him to reach the en suite, more to keep Dean from being able to take him to hell than preventing Marv’s escape.   
Sam and the others stood in the old junk yard. He hadn’t been back here in some time and to see it now caused his heart to ache. Where the house should have been was nothing but dirt and muddy tracks left by bulldozers that had torn down the remnants, the place was unrecognisable, the maze of scrap cars were gone, presumably for safety reasons same as the house. There were a couple of out building still standing and Sam had to use them to get his bearings. He walked left and right across patch of dirt where the house had stood again and again until he was sure he had found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said grabbing a shovel.  
“Allow me,” Cas said gently moving the Winchester aside. With a wave the angel’s hand, muck, gravel and wood rose from the ground in front of them and landed neatly some distance away in a heap. Before them now was circular grate that was decorated with a crude but effective devils trap.   
“Thanks Cas, that just saved me a lot of back ache,” Sam said gratefully, as he worked open the hinges and opened it, before dropping down a rope ladder.  
Everything below was intact and as he remembered it and it seemed to have faired the fire better than he had hoped; structurally it was still sound, no obvious damage at all.   
“This is perfect,” Faith said dropping off the last rung of the ladder, and kicking away dust and muck on the floor revealing the other trap of iron sunken in to the concrete of the floor, “This is some craftsmanship,” she added in awe,   
“Ok, I will go retrieve our victim,” Cas said from above them and was gone. Faith frowned.   
“You ok?” Sam asked, worried she would at any minute realise how crazy their plan was and change her mind.   
“Yeah, I just wish we had a better word than victim or meat-suit for whoever he is about to come back with,” she admitted.   
“Sacrifice?” Sam said trying and failing to lighten the mood.  
“Not helping,” she replied.   
“How about we unpack, get ourselves settled in the garage up above?” Sam suggested.  
They climbed back up into the brightening morning, grabbed their bags and made their way to the old garage.  
“Good old Jody,” Sam said as they entered pointing to three hold alls in the corner. “Looks likes she stopped off here on her way out town,” Sam dumped the bags on the work bench and handed Faith a note he had found with it.   
‘You boys had better call me and let me know you two are ok, love Jody.’ She said reading it allowed for him.  
Sam smiled and began listing the contents of the bags as he unpacked, “Camping lamps, sleeping bags and first aid kits,” he said empting the first and reaching for the next, full of Tupperware. “Baked ham, ribs. Oh man, homemade cookies, lemonade, beers and whiskey,”   
“Who is this woman? I’m pretty sure I love her,” Faith said opening a beer, it wasn’t cold but it was wet and that was good enough for her right now.   
“Yep, she is all kinds of awesome,” he confirmed as he watched Faith empty the last backpack. She mimicked Sam naming everything as she took it out.   
“Silver bullets, salt rounds, salt, holy water,” she paused unsure what the final item was; she unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. “Phew, that’s strong whatever it is,” she said handing it to Sam for identification. Sam took a sniff of his own.  
“How the hell did she get her hands on that?” he said obviously impressed.   
“What is it?” Faith asked.   
“Holy Oil,” he confirmed and added it to a group of similar bottles he had already stashed in the corner, “And it’s a good thing too because we are going to need all we can get hands on if we want to steer Dean towards the panic room.”

Dean and his knights had made themselves at home in the bunker, now that it had been made safe by Crowley it was the perfect place for them to run their search from. Dean was well aware of the information and power stored in this place; he had allowed his subordinates free run of the place, except for the file room. As much of a blow as it would be to the hunting community in general, he was sure there was information stored in here that would benefit him also, no point destroying it, just yet.   
The knights were in full celebratory mode, most were in the study blaring music, drinking and laughing while their new brothers and sisters in arms took pleasure in smashing anything that took their fancy, One or two others had disappeared off to bedrooms for more privacy, enjoying the company of each other or purchased entertainment.   
In the centre of the library sat Dean, watching his knights with a content look on his face as a ginger haired lady sat on his lap, kissing his neck between swigs of his whiskey bottle. He was full aware where Metatron was, but had yet to venture down to the fallen angel, letting him stew a while longer. He wanted to get his hands on his brother and his meddling friends but with his blade and the mark fully fed he found he was more inclined to have a good time than to go seeking revenge right now. He stood up abruptly, scooping his passenger up as he did so.   
“Oooh!” she said startled and the giggled as he spun around and carried her out of the room without saying a word. She lay back as his arms cradled her and look another hit from the bottle before bringing it to his lips and pouring it down his throat, he swallowed as much as he could but it inevitably poured over his checks and down his neck. He laughed as he gargled with the liquor, before kissing her and transferring what was left to her waiting mouth. Half way to his room he paused at an open door and looked in. Marv was sitting on the floor and looked up as Dean passed.   
“I’m going to make this one here,” Dean said nodding at the lady in his arms, “scream for a couple of hours and then I coming back here and I‘m going to make you scream too, albeit for every different reasons,” he promised before walking off. Marv heard him open a door a little further down the hall then bang it shut behind him. The lady with Dean gave a high pitch squeal and then a satisfied coo. Marv was trapped and decided that listening to the passionate noises that followed from Dean’s room was torture enough and he did his best to tune it out, but to no avail. 

Castiel returned to Singer Autos with an unhappy companion, although, truth be told, the angel was none the happier. Neither Faith nor Sam disagreed with his domineer, and nodded nodding solemnly at his return. Both felt terrible about they were about to do but understood they had no choice now.   
Faith avoided all eye contact with the man who stood next to Castiel, knowing that it was her decision that had brought him here. It didn’t matter that he was the most evil human Cas could find she still felt horrible about the whole thing.   
Sam gently took her by the elbow and pulled her aside.   
“It doesn’t matter how innocent he looks, this is one human, in the place of thousands of others. It’s a cliché I know but the good of the many out way the good of the few,” Sam said.  
“Who are you trying to convince me or you?” she said angrily, without meaning it.  
“We need to get this done,” Cas said, inadvertently defusing the situation with worse news.   
Sam was about to chastise Cas for his abruptness but Faith cut him off before he could even start.   
“Ok,” she said and left the garage without another word, leading the Winchester, the angel and their ‘Sacrifice’ through the early morning light back to the panic room. She was terrified, more scared than she ever believed was possible. What she was about to do was against everything she had ever known against everything she was created to do, releasing a prisoner it was just so wrong. But she also knew it was what she had to do, this small circle of people she found herself with now held the fate of so many in their hands and she, whether she liked it or not, was well and truly one of them.   
She put her hands in her pockets as she walked to hide the fact that they were shaking uncontrollably. Whatever was coming next she was sure she wasn’t even close to ready for it, but this was what she did, as an oubliette, duty was everything.   
She lowered herself into the panic room and waited for the others to join her. Even in the morning light the room was dark, she busied herself lighting the camping lights that Jody had left them, but only managed to give the room a shadowy more sinister look. Sam dropped off the ladder.  
“Where is Cas?” she asked.   
“I asked him to give us a moment,” Sam replied. “Faith, I just wanted to give you one last opportunity to walk away from all this.”   
“Are you insane?” She snapped back at him. “That’s the last thing I need, give me a second more to think about this and I’ll be gone, running, never to look back.” She looked at her feet, not wanting to see the fear and concern on the Winchesters face, “I’m an Oubliette, Sam, my sole existence is to contain evil, trap it and keep it forever. I’m about to do the complete opposite of that, and do it willingly. Every fibre of my being is screaming no. But I know this is what needs to happen. So lets just get Castiel and whatever-his-name-is down here before I actually do change my mind,” She pleaded.  
“I’m here,” Cas stated appearing behind them with his prisoner next to him. Whatever hold the angel had over him, he acted like he was in a trance, moving only when directed.   
“If you are ready I can begin to drain you so that you are weak enough to allow for Alistair’s release,” he explained. He saw the fear in Faiths eyes. “It won’t be like in Hell with Dean, I can use the stone to draw the power from you.”   
Sam took out his pistol and started loading it with bullets from his pocket.   
“What’s that for?” Faith asked concerned.  
“Devils trap bullets, extra layer of security. I’ll unload one of these into him once Alistair possesses him and he won’t be able to smoke out again,” Sam explained. Faith nodded but said nothing. If she had held out any hope that they could save the man next to her at some later point, evil or not, it was gone now. They were sentencing him to death, murdering him, plan and simple.   
“Let’s get this over with,” she said to Castiel. He nodded and directed her to chair, where she obediently sat. He took out the turquoise stone and with his palm flat he pressed it against her chest. She felt the familiar warm as power passed from it into her.   
“Er, Cas, that’s making me stronger,” she informed him, but the angel didn’t answer, his eyes were shut as he concentrated on the stone.   
She felt the direction of the power shift, flowing from her into the stone and to her angel. He was right it wasn’t like in hell; there was discomfort but little or no pain, more like queasiness, seasickness. Then she felt Alistair, he was aware, alerted to her weakening state. She could feel him poking around, testing the waters. Castiel must have felt it too because he stopped and removed his hand from her. Faith looked up at him.   
“No, not yet, he is still contained. You need to take more,” she said. Cas started again. Alistair was very active now, pushing against the walls of her soul. To her surprise he addressed her.   
“What are you up to girly?” he asked “Am I up for early parole?” She ignored him not even sure how to reply as his voice was just manifesting in her head. “Do you think I’m an idiot, I don’t know what you are up to but if you want me out it’s not for my own health. I think I’ll stay here see what happens when you completely power down, perhaps I can finally get control of you and all the untapped power floating around in here. I think I’ll bide my time, leave here when there are better options for me than some aging sexual predator and a devils trap,” Faith looked up at Cas.  
“He’s not coming out,” she said. The angel stopped again.   
“What?” he replied.  
“He knows we’re up to something. He says he is staying where he is, waiting for to see what happens to me,” she said.   
“Can he do that?” Sam asked.   
“Oubliettes are designed to contain, not to expel; if he doesn’t come out willingly I can’t make him,” Faith explained.   
“But maybe I can. He grabbed hold of me when I went in to read your angel’s name. I should be able to do the same to him,” Castiel suggested.   
“Do it,” Faith said quickly. “Get that son of a bitch out of me.” Without hesitating Castiel plunged his hand into Faiths soul, the majority of Oubliette power now in the stone, breaking into the soul was easier than the last time. He felt around until he found what he was looking for and gripped tightly forcing Alistair up and out of Faith. As he with drew his hand she let out a roar as thick black smoke bellowed from her open mouth. It swirled about the room looking for any means of escape, banging against the walls desperate to go anywhere but into the hapless meat suit provided. Cas and Sam stood back watching the spectacle Faith was oblivious to, her eyes stared blankly at the roof and blood poured from her mouth, Alistair having done as much damage as he could on the way out. The smoke eventually having no other choice took the waiting victim as his. Alistair stretched his new arms and legs, cracking joints as he limbered up.   
“You idiots, what ever you are doing it is all pointless, you won’t be able to defeat Dean, he was a brilliant student, and he will make an awe inspiring knight,” he said lunging at them but was prevented by the devils traps above and below him. “When I get out of here…” A deafening shot rang out in the panic room, hitting Alistair square in the forehead, knocking him to the floor. Castiel shot Sam a surprised look.  
“He was annoying and it needed to be done,” he said trying to explain his actions while rubbing his ringing ears. But Castiel attention had turned to the lifeless Faith still staring upwards. “Faith?” Sam asked joining Cas at her side. “Is she alive?” he asked. Cas placed a hand on her forehead.  
“Just about,” he confirmed as he healed her. “She will be ok, but will need to rest, I have healed her physically but to transfer the Oubliette from her to Dean her soul needs to remain weak,” Sam nodded and Castiel looked at Alistair. “I will need to move him somewhere else; this space is needed for Dean. Keep her safe, I will be back soon,” Cas said before both he and demon disappeared.

 

Dean had finished with this lady friend and was now sitting in a chair in front of Metatron, who had not been liberated from his devil trap chains. There had been a heated discussion between a number of the knights as to whether or not it would just be easier to cut off the Scribes leg, but this had been vetoed by Dean, pain was relative and if he needed to get information out of the angel who killed him it would be easier if he wasn’t already reeling in agony.   
“There is no Crowley here now to protect you, and I’m certainly not here to bargain with you, you killed me, I’m going to poke and prod at you until your pathetic body gives up, then I’m going to drag you to hell where I’m going to spend an eternity slicing away at you whether you tell me where my brother is or not,” he said in a cool matter of fact way that chilled Marv to the bone. “Regardless, how about we get that out of the way, you tell me where little Sammy is hiding out and we can get down to out own business,” he suggested, standing up. But his prisoner remained silent. “Ok then, I’ll find Herman Munster and the rest of the crew without your help.” Dean took his Blade from inside his jacket but instead of readying it he place it on the bureau. “Nothing as quick as the Blade for you, I’m afraid. You like to read right? You may need to invest in some books on tape,” he said as he stood over the terrified Marv. Dean took the scribe’s head in his strong hands, placing a thumb over each of Marv’s eyes and began to apply pressure, slowly at first. Metatron’s hands went to Deans desperately trying to pry them off, but it was no good, the knight was just too strong. Lights flashed in the darkness beneath Marv’s eyelids as the pressure from Dean’s fingers grew.   
The pain engulfed his entire skull as tears and blood streamed down his cheeks. There was a sickening popping noise from the left socket as his eyeball imploded. Dean took his thumbs away; Metatron didn’t dare open either eye for fear of what remained. Dean did not share in his fear forcing his remaining eye open and holding his face close to his.   
“Remember this face, it’s the last thing you are going to see, you little mole.” He positioned his thumb back in place and quickly destroyed Marv’s sight for good. He let go of the scribe whose hands went to his face covering his oozing eyes, as he cried out in pain. The Winchester picked up a towel from the en suite wiping his hands clean. He was staring at Metatron, drinking in all the pain and suffering he had just cause the snivelling little man. Still however Metatron remained silent, never once begging or pleading for his life, never once telling the monster before him where Cas and the others had gone. He needed to give them more time, as much time as he could. 

 

Cas had returned to find Faith sitting up in a cot that Sam had set up for in the panic room. They had figured it was the safest place to wait for Castiel to return. Faith looked exhausted, deep dark circles sat beneath her eyes and there was a noticeable tremor in her hand as she nibbled at a plate of Jody’s food that Sam had ordered she eat.   
“How do you feel?” Cas asked her.   
“I’ll live,” she replied.   
“Where did you put Alistair?” Sam asked.  
“He is trapped in an abandoned town a couple of hundred miles from here. He locked down, it will hold him long enough to save Dean but not forever,” he admitted.  
Accepting this and with Faith now fed and recovering Sam took out his laptop. The others looked at him curious as to what he was up to.   
“I just want to check the bunker, there are webcams; I installed them when we were keeping Crowley locked up. I turned them on again before we left, just in case.” He logged into a website call ‘nannycam.com’. Faith gave him a funny look. “Hey don’t judge me; it gets the job done, whatever works, right?” When the page opened he had the choice of six different cameras. “Oh shit,” he said, as he watched the first camera. It showed the study of the bunker.   
“Are they all knights?” Faith asked, looking at five black eyed demons tearing the room apart, laughing and drinking, having a great time.   
“We have no choice but to assume that they are,” Cas replied.  
Sam clicked on the other cameras, revealing more knights wandering freely around the bunker.   
“This changes nothing,” Sam said defiantly. “The plan remains the same.”  
“What? This changes everything!” Faith replied weakly. “Have you lost your mind? There are at least seven or eight knights there, not including Dean; we can’t take that many on. We’ll be over run in seconds,” she predicted.   
“Perhaps not,” Cas chimed in. “Maybe Hannah will allow some of my brethren to stand along side us once again. Distract them long enough to capture Dean.”  
“You think you can swing that?” Sam asked.   
“I believe so. Hannah has developed somewhat of an infatuation with me,” Castiel said uncomfortably. Faith smiled at the angel.   
“And how do you feel about Hannah? She asked. Cas looked a little confused as if he had not before considered how he felt about her.  
“Er, she is a good and honourable leader,” he replied honestly but missing Faiths point.   
“That’s good buddy,” Sam said chuckling. The angel looked at both Faith and Sam realising that he had not fully grasped what they were getting at.   
“I will be back as soon as I can,” he said grumpily.  
“I think we’ve embarrassed him,” Faith said smiling at Sam once Cas had left.   
“Well he hasn’t had a lot of luck in the past with the ladies,” Sam added before turning his attention back to the laptop. Eventually he came to the camera he had set up above Metatron’s door. They could clearly see Dean standing above him; the cameras didn’t transmit sound, so they couldn’t tell what was being said between the fallen angel and the knight. Dean stood with his back to the camera as he leaned over his captive. He watched as Dean pulled out his Blade but instead of using it he placed it aside. Bile burnt the back of Sam’s throat as he watched his brother blind Metatron with his bare hands.  
“Oh my God,” Faith said watching from over Sam’s shoulder. Sam slammed the laptop closed unable to watch any more.   
“I mean, I wanted Metatron to pay, for Dean, for heaven, for the angels, for everything. But this, this is just wrong,” Sam said. “Dean, more than anyone, deserves to get revenge on that weasel but not this version of him. We need to stop this,” Sam said.   
“We will,” Faith assured him.   
“It is done,” Cas said, returning from heaven.  
“That was quick,” Sam commented.   
“Yes, I did not feel it prudent to hang around. Heaven can only spare five angels but hopefully it will be enough, I merely need to send word and they will be with us instantly,” Cas explained.   
“Well that’s good news because we need to act now, as much as I dislike saying it we need to save Metatron from Dean and we need to do it now. We can’t wait for him to lose patience, I will not leave my brother as this monster for a second longer than we have to.”  
He looked to Cas and then to Faith, “Are we ready for some visitors?” he asked not waiting for an answer before dialling Dean’s number.  
“Hello Brother,” Dean said, answering his phone. “So you have decided to crawl out from under the rock you’ve been hiding,” he mocked. “I know I’m a scary son of a bitch but I never expected a Winchester to high tail it and run, what would father think?”  
“Well I’m done hiding,” Sam snapped. “You want me, come and get me,” he challenged. “I’m at Bobby’s and I’m not going anywhere.”   
“Ah, still as sentimental as ever,” Dean scoffed. “Its fitting I suppose, if I’m going to commit fratricide why not on the old homestead,” he said. “I’ll see you soon Sammy,” Dean added before hanging up the phone.   
“Ok, we don’t have long, we need to get ready, get the holy oil placed so that it leads Dean on a direct path to that grate above us,” Sam said.   
“Ok but if we are using holy oil it is better if the other angels and I place it so that we are aware where it is so that we do not get trapped ourselves,” Castiel suggested. “Plus Dean and his knights could be here in the blink of an eye we don’t have time to spare. You two rest up and keep an eye on the cameras as soon as they let me know.”   
“Ok, sounds like a plan,” Faith replied, Sam said nothing, not enjoying being sidelined, even temporarily. 

Dean now knowing where and the others were hiding out was still in no rush. He was enjoying spending time with his new family; there was no hassle, no judgement. It was simple, these knights were his progenies, they loved and served him and right now he demanded them to party and enjoy themselves which was a commandment they all found it every easy to follow.   
Sam and Faith watched Dean and his knights desecrate the place that human Dean had desperately tried to get Sam to see as their home. Now that he did, every broken piece of furniture made him wish he had appreciated what he had while he still had it. It hadn’t been perfect, it hadn’t been what he had pictured, but it had been theirs and now it was infested with demon scum.   
Castiel and the other angels has finished prepping the area hours ago and still Dean hadn’t left the bunker, so they took up guard around the parameter, pointlessly keeping watch for an enemy that had not yet begun to advance on them. Faith slept, still drained and exhausted. She looked terrible, as if she had aged a decade over night. Sam tried in vain to sleep also but found it difficult to stop watching his brother through the webcams. He seemed to be truly in his element, the centre of attention, carefree and happy. He had never seen his brother this way. Even at moments of joy for Dean there had always been an undertone, a knowledge that this moment was going to be short lived and that just around the corner there was something that was going to do its best to rip his world apart. But the Dean he was watching now carried none of that burden, he seemed at peace. It was what Sam had always wished for his brother and now that Dean had it Sam would move heaven and earth to take it all away from him.  
Sam eventually fell asleep, the laptop still open on his lap. There was no day or night in the panic room, little or no light bled in through the grate above them, so he had no idea how long he had been asleep or what time it was when Faith shook him awake again.   
“Sam, I think their coming, I think its time,” Faith said urgently. She had at some point taken the laptop from him and replaced it with a blanket. Handing it back to him, he watched Dean stand in front of his knights giving some sort of speech. Whatever he was saying it was rabble rousing. “Eight Sam, there are eight knights, nine including Dean,” she said in a panic. She got up and stood beneath the grate looking up. “Castiel!” she yelled. “Stay sharp, we are about to have company,” Sam still watching the webcam saw Dean disappear and then seconds later his squad of Knights did the same.   
“Ok, stay here, try and stay outside the trap,” he said point to the floor. “The plan is for Dean to drop down to you but you only have enough juice to drain one knight, we won’t get a second chance, make sure it him,” he reminded her.   
“Wait, what? You’re not going up there are you?” she asked.   
“The angels are out numbered, I have to go,” he said starting up the ladder. “Like I said, this is it, our only shot,” he paused for a second and looked back at her. “Faith, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done and are about to do,”   
“Hey, buy me a beer when this is all over and we can call it quits, deal?” she said.   
“Deal,” he said and headed up through the hatch, setting it in place behind him. 

Holy fire was igniting all around Sam making it difficult to determine which direction to head in. The decision was made for him as a familiar voice was heard directly from behind.  
“Hey Sammy,” Dean said. Sam spun around and was met with the palm of Dean’s hand connecting squarely with his face. He managed to remain standing but stumbled backwards, his sight obscured by the eye-watering pain that shot through his head while blood poured from his broken nose. Sam’s back and shoulders met with the exterior wall of the garage. Dean advanced on him and grabbed this brother by the shoulders of his jacket. Sam could not yet see clearly although from the shouts and yells that rang out across Bobby’s land it appeared there was a full scale battle between knights and angels going on around them. Sam knew that Cas and his garrison were out numbered and obviously had their hands full, if there was any hope of getting Dean into the panic room it was up to Sam and Sam alone.   
“Wait, Dean,” Sam said. His brother ignored him pulling his blade from his pocket and resting it against Sam’s neck.   
“You’re first on my rack,” Dean spat. “I was going to take my time killing you but I don’t have that luxury right now. Instead I’m going to drag you to hell and spend an eternity pulling you apart,” he promised.   
“Or you could just make me a knight,” Sam said, almost without thinking, he had no idea where he was going with this, just desperately trying to buy himself some time.  
“What?” Dean answered, a little taken back by the suggestion.  
“Yeah, make me a knight, I’ll willingly serve by your side,” Sam added.  
“Right,” Dean replied sceptically, “You had trouble following my orders when we were actually brothers.”   
“I saw you, back at the bunker, with the rest of your knights,” Sam explained.  
“How?” Dean asked.   
“The webcams,” Sam confirmed, a little ashamed.   
“Ah, the bloody webcams, I had forgotten about those,” he said.   
“I saw how much fun you and your knights were having. How happy you were. Dean, in our entire lives neither of us have ever been that content. I want that,” Sam admitted. “We thought closing the gates of Hell would solve everything but we were wrong. We’re broken, we could banish all evil from the earth tomorrow and it wouldn’t help us, we’ve seen too much. We’d never find peace, not like I saw through the webcams. I want that, I’ve followed you all my life. Why should that change now?” Sam explained. Dean released one had from Sam’s jacket and gently slapped his brother’s cheek before running his hand down Sam’s face and taking hold of his chin, giving it a small amused shake before letting go of his little brother completely and taking a step back considering all that had been said.   
It was true, an hour ago he was having so much fun he didn’t care if his brother lived or died, a minute ago he couldn’t wait to drive his Blade deep into the overgrown child’s beating heart and now he felt something different again, something almost verging on sentimentality. To have Sam next to him, fighting by his side once more but this time for an eternity seemed now to be all he had ever wanted. It was perfect, too perfect. He laughed loudly and deeply, opening his arms, inviting Sam in. “You know what, that’s a great idea, the Winchesters back together, us against the world, brothers in arms, nothing could stop us,” he said as he threw his arm over Sam’s shoulder and stood next to him facing into the fire illuminated night. “Only thing is Sammy, I’m not some two bit demon possessing your brother, I am your brother, and I know for a fact you would rather die than become the glorious monster that I have,” Dean said, walking with Sam a couple of steps. Sam tried to hold his poker face as he was led directly towards the spot he needed Dean to be in. They stopped a few feet short of the hatch. “Thing is; now I can’t think of a more fitting torture for you. I’m not going to make you a knight, but I am going to have one of my knights take you as a meat suit. You will remain at my side forever, loyal till the end, whether you like it or not.” He playfully slapped Sam on the chest. “Every innocent we kill, every soul we destroy, you will be right there along side me,” Dean said and then pulled at Sam’s collar revealing his tattoo, “Just as soon as we get rid of this, of course,” he added. Sam pulled away from his brother.   
“Dean, if you can hear me, I haven’t given up, I am going to find away to save, you I just need you to hold on, to keep fighting,” Sam said desperately.   
“Are you serious?” Dean laughed. “I mean, come on Sam, you’re supposed to be the smart one. You have to know by now, I am Dean; there is no human version of me cowering away inside, just praying that Sammy will come to my rescue. I don’t know how many more times I need to say this but I’m not possessed. There is only me, there is only this,” Dean said taking another step towards the grate and gave Sam a theatrical twirl. “Pure, honest to badness, Dean Winchester, nothing more, nothing less,” he added.   
“But that’s not entirely true,” Sam corrected. “There is something more, that mark,” Sam said motioning to Dean’s right arm, while he drew his own blade.   
“That tooth pick will have no effect on me, Sam, you know that. What is wrong with you? Are you so desperate that you have just thrown years of experience and knowledge out the window?” Dean mocked. Sam allowed his eye to be drawn to Dean’s forearm once again. “What? Is that your plan? You really think it’s going to be that simple. Remove the mark and then save your brother,” Dean laughed again and then looked behind him as another ball of fire rose into the night sky and somebody let out an ungodly scream. Sam couldn’t tell whether it was an angel or knight although it was clear to Dean, which it was. “Holy oil won’t kill us, but I do now have a knight in need of a new body, you body,” Dean explained. While Dean was distracted, Sam abandoned his blade in exchange for a small bottle he fished out of his pocket.   
“Good to know,” Sam replied and threw the contents of the bottle at his brother, drenching his right sleeve. “Although Dean, you said yourself, you’re not in a meat suit, so what will it do to you I wonder?” Sam asked, quickly tossing a lit lighter at his brother. Dean’s arm was engulfed in flames. He attempted to put it out with his other hand, dropping his Blade on the ground. Sam without hesitation dived for it, then with everything he had drove the bone deep into Dean’s chest and then continued to push forcing Dean the final few feet until he was standing on the devil trap grate. “Now, Faith!” Sam yelled and on command she pulled down on the waiting rope sharply causing the grate to swing open, and Dean to disappear into the void below. The plan had been well rehearsed and Faith was fully aware of what she needed to do, although the fact that Dean was currently on fire did throw her a little. Even still she played her part, drained to the point of exhaustion, she grabbed at Dean, making contact with his left hand and held on tight. Once again the now all too familiar surge came, filled with hate, anger and violence. Only this time it was to a degree she hadn’t even encountered in Hell with Crowley. Her eyes shone black, as did Dean’s. They both lay in the centre of the Devils Trap. Dean resisting the drain as best he could, while Faith held on to his hand with both of hers for dear life. Sam quickly followed down into the panic room and doused Dean’s arm and then helped hold him in place as the draining continued. Faith stared into Dean’s eyes waiting, hoping that they would soon lose their blackness, so that the agony she was in could end. But they remained as they were and the flow of evil never weakened. It continued, seemingly indefinitely for what felt like hours to Faith but was really only a matter of minutes. She began to fear that perhaps Castiel had left her with too little power to successfully drain Dean. Sam had come to the same conclusion and screamed for the angel through the din of the battle that still raged above them. Against the odds, Cas appeared, he himself charred and bloodied. Without a word from Sam he assessed the situation and knew what was needed. He placed the stone in one hand and placed the other on Faith as he sent her the extra power she was lacking. She felt the tides finally turn, as the surge quickened and Dean’s resistance weakened. She watched with relief as the darkness began to slowly fade from his eyes. Eventually a pair of knowing green eyes stared back at her. She released her grip on him and curled up into the foetal position as she faced her final stage. To her happy surprise this was easier and quicker than before now that she was without Alistair. Castiel let go also, only giving her the power she needed and no more.   
Sam was at his brother’s side, Castiel was at Faith’s. “Dean is it you? Are you ok?” Dean groaned as he rolled over onto his back and looked down his chin at the First Blade jutting out from his chest.   
“Yes and yes. Would you mind?” he said to Sam nodding at the knife.   
“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” Sam answered before taking hold of the Blade with both hands and slowly pulling it out of Dean’s chest. The wound only lasted for a few seconds before healing itself.   
“I fear this may take a little longer,” Dean added raising his burnt arm. “How about a little help up?” he asked offering his hand to Sam. He pulled his brother to his feet and Cas did the same with the now recovering Faith. It was only then they noticed the silence from above. Castiel disappeared briefly before returning with news.  
“It seems, your knights retreated when they started to grow weaker. Faith, you were draining all of them through Dean,” he said.   
“Well that explains a hell of a lot,” she answered wearily. “Let’s get this finished,” she added without ceremony.   
“What finished?” Dean asked.   
“We don’t have time to explain. We need to do this before you recharge again. Sit,” Cas ordered as Sam slid a chair in Dean’s direction. Dean didn’t argue, Sam had never known Dean to just accept an order like this without an explanation but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth so remained silent. Faith grabbed herself a chair and pulled it up to Dean’s right hand side.   
Sam immediately began to duck tape Dean’s wrists to the armrests of the chair while Castiel repeated the same process to Faith. Dean looked over at Faith with concern. She had enough manoeuvrability to be able to rest the tip of her little finger on his and smiled reassuringly at him.   
“It’s going to be ok, I promise,” she said to him.  
“You can’t promise that. We don’t know that for sure,” Cas interjected. “We are working with theories and assumptions.”   
“Thanks Cas,” Faith said too weak to chastise the angel. Still Dean didn’t question their plan.   
“Are you ok Dean?” Sam asked.   
“Yeah, just peachy,” he replied.   
“Really, cause you are acting a bit weird, don’t you want to know what we are about to try? What we are about to do to you,” Sam asked a little worried.   
“I don’t care. I don’t want to go back to what I was; at this point I will try anything. God damn it I’d sell my soul a second time if it meant I didn’t have to become that monster again,” Dean explained, “So do what ever you have to. Faith, you are obviously playing an active part in this and for that I thank you,” he looked at Sam and then the others. “But if this doesn’t work, I want all three of you to promise me, that it’s a devils trap bullet, decapitation and then bury me in concrete.” None of them answered. If this didn’t work they didn’t actually have a back up plain. It was Sam who eventually spoke.  
“I promise Dean, I will not allow you to go back. If that is what it takes to stop you I will do it,” he said, not sure where he would find the resolve to do it.   
“Thanks little brother,” Dean replied.   
Castiel stood behind Faith and Dean, placing a hand on each their shoulders. Faith could feel the stone in the hand touching her, its power radiating. Cas closed his eyes as the last of Faith’s power began to drain from her and was stored in the stone. There was a sudden shift within her, a resistance, something else that wasn’t willing to leave her, just like with Alistair. As Cas wrestled with it Faith realised that it was Oubliette potion of her soul separating from her. It felt like she was being ripped in two. It wasn’t pain as recognised in its physical form; it was pain of the soul. Sorrow, remorse, regret, guilt and sadness, all overwhelmed her, and without realising it, she wailed. A sound she had never understood before but now articulated all the heartache she felt, bellowed from within her without warning. Tears fell as she wept inconsolably. She didn’t notice Castiel remove his hand and transfer the stone to Dean’s shoulder.   
Dean winced as the power first began to flow into him. It carried with it some of the pain and sorrow its removal has caused Faith and Dean looked at her with tears in his eyes in some small way aware of what she was going through. Then the pain started, physical pain, the mark doing everything it could to reject the Oubliette and its power. Ever nerve ending screamed as Castiel continued to force the Oubliette into Dean’s soul. The mark illuminated in the dull light of the panic room, serving only to entice the angel to push harder. Faith’s wailing was subsided to a weeping just as Dean let out his first roar. His eyes, flashed rapidly from human green to demonic black as the mark and the oubliette battled for dominance within Dean. Blood pooled and spilled from the corners of his eyes, mouth and nose. Castiel felt the last of the Oubliette pass from the stone into Dean just as the knight passed out. Cas stumbled backward, he himself sapped of energy. Sam put his ear in close to Deans mouth, what he hoped was still his brother was breathing, at least. Faith has stopped crying but was motionless and silent, staring intently at a spot of nothing on the floor.   
“Well?” Sam asked.  
“The Oubliette has been moved, beyond that, how either of them react or recover is now in their hands,” Cas said. “Dean could still reject the Oubliette and Faith I believe, I hope, will just need time to adjust,” he explained. “We should get them back to the bunker.”   
“That place was probably crawling with knights,” Sam answered.   
“Its ok, I sent the garrison there ahead of us to help Metatron and redo the warding. It is the safest place for them to rest,” Cas replied before transporting all of them back to the bunker.   
Sam was grateful and relieved that the angels had also put the place back together; there was no evidence of Dean and his minion’s earlier house party.   
Faith and Dean were put in rooms opposite each other, Sam reluctant to leave his brothers side for longer that a couple of minutes, was able to check in on Faith while never actually having Dean out of sight. 

Cas was getting regular updates from Hannah, it appeared that the knights had either gone in to hiding or back to hell. Either way they were not causing any immediate cause for concern. It was nearly twenty four hours before Faith woke. Sam was asleep in an armchair across the hall next to the still slumbering Dean.   
She sat on the edge of the bed trying to get a read on how she was feeling, the sorrow and emotional anguish she had experienced earlier has subsided greatly and the emptiness, the separation she was expecting to feel now that she was no longer an Oubliette wasn’t present either. She felt good, relieved as if a weight or a burden had been lifted from her. She stood and was happy that there was no physical pain either, everything seemed to be where it was supposed to and nothing seemed to be missing, except what was supposed to be.   
“Faith?” a voice said. She turned to the door expecting to see either Sam or Cas, but there was no one there, she assumed she was hearing things and thought nothing more of it. She headed into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. “Holy crap I look like shit,” she said to herself before turning the taps to fill the bath. She sat on the lid of the toilet waiting for the bath to fill, again she heard it.   
“Faith?” Someone said. She headed to the bedroom door, both Winchesters were still sound asleep, she looked up and down the hall and it was empty. A little freaked but still in her heart believing she was just hearing things she closed the bedroom door and locked it before returning to her now full bath.   
Her body relaxed as she sank into the warm soapy water, any stress or concerns she had been carrying melted away as she allowed the steam and heat work its way not just into her bones to deep into her soul. She was drifting off in to a light sleep when she heard it once again, this time right next to her, leaving her no doubt as to whether she was mistaken or not.  
“Faith, can you hear me?” the voice asked.   
“Yes,” she answered, climbing out the bath and throwing on a ‘Men of Letters’ monogrammed robe that was hanging on the back of the door. “Yes I can hear you. Who are you? Where are you?” she asked. She turned to the mirror above the sink and to her horror realised it was her reflection speaking to her, ignoring all rules reflections were meant to follow, namely mirroring her actions. It moved and spoke independently of her, while Faith stared frozen and dumb struck in shock.   
“I’m you,” she, the Faith in the mirror, replied patiently.   
“Oh God, I’ve lost my mind,” Faith said to herself looking intently in the mirror.   
“On the contrary, your mind is a sharp and as sane as it ever was, not that that is saying a whole lot,” her reflection answered.   
“Thanks a lot,” Faith replied automatically.   
“You may have lost the Oubliette and its power but in doing so you have gained so much more,” The mirror version of Faith said and then in way of an explanation intentionally flashed her eyes to a bright angelic blue.  
“I’m a frickin’ angel?” Faith responded without thinking.   
“More than that,” the reflection replied as her eyes changed from blue to black.  
“Wait, what? I’m a demon!” Faith said. To this the refection didn’t reply just changed her eyes from black to yellow, to red and then to white.   
“What is going on?” Faith finally said unable to think of a better question.   
“You and that Oubliette of yours have taken in a plethora powerful beings in your time. The Oubliette siphons off the evil, the hate and absorbs the power. However as with everything there is run off, the dregs at the bottom of the coffee filter so to speak, over the years it has built up, and now that the Oubliette is gone and those dregs are left behind, that power is now yours, at your disposal so to speak,” Faiths image explained.   
“Am I evil?” she asked, afraid of the answer.   
“No more evil than you were yesterday,” The reflection replied.  
“Is the power evil?” Faith asked, realising she might need to be more specific.  
“No more evil than you were yesterday. The power is part of you now,” the Faith in the mirror repeated. “Demons, Leviathans, Wraiths, Vampire, even Angels, you’ve housed them all, and a little of each has been left behind, suppressed, forgotten until the Oubliette was removed,” her reflection was interrupted by someone else calling her name.   
“Faith?” Sam called from her room. For an instant Faith looked away from the mirror and towards the door separating herself from Sam. When she turned back there was nothing there but her own reflection. She stared hard in the mirror, willing her eyes to change like they had before. Nothing happened, instantly she began to doubt her sanity again. The mind has an uncanny way of defending itself against what it deems to be impossible or in Faiths current case improbable. She pulled herself together and opened the bathroom door, greeting the Winchester with a smile.   
“You’re up,” he stated, “How are you feeling?” he asked.   
“Good, I guess, relieved, rested,” Faith answered leaving out the part where she was losing her marbles. “Dean?” she asked.  
“Still asleep,” Sam confirmed.   
“Oh,” Faith replied. “It’s a waiting game I suppose.”  
“Yeah, I guess. Look, I’ll go, let you get, you know, er, dressed,” he said awkwardly backing out of the room. Faith pulled the robe tight around her in response.   
“Ok, thanks, I’ll be over in a bit,” she promised. 

 

“Those were my knights!” Crowley screamed. “He had no right to risk them like that. I mean, come on, what the hell was he thinking, going into battle against an army of winged dicks? Immortal or not, they were never going to win. Even as a human Dean had no comprehension of his limitations, but now as a knight his ego is out of control,” Crowley closed his eyes and shook his head slowly trying to calm himself before he continued. He finally turned to the demon that had arrived with the news of the epic show down. “Where are they now?” the king asked.   
“Dean Winchester has been captured by the angel Castiel, six of the eight new knights have returned to hell and the other two are still missing,” he informed Crowley.   
“The six that have returned, bring them to me,” Crowley demanded.   
“Ah, well, there is a problem there,” The demon said tentatively. ”They don’t seem to be acting like knights at the moment. They seem to be more human than demon.”   
“Shit!” Crowley cursed. “I’m guessing that bitch has her claws on Dean once again. Draining him, must drain them also. We need to get Dean back here.” The king of hell suddenly smiled. “This could be good; if we can get a hold of Dean while he is still drained we might have a change to cage him, keep his rage up, and have him power my knights while safely out of the way. I honestly thought we could share hell but I see now that that just won’t work. One undisputed leader is the only way to go,” he said already in a better mood.  
“There is more,” The demon said. “We’ve had a call.”  
“Ok?” the king asked.   
“The call was from someone claiming to be Alistair, I mean, The Alistair.”   
“And you are only telling me know. Put me through to him right now,” Crowley snapped. The demon rushed from the room and returning a few seconds later with a large ornate chalice full of thick dark red blood. 

Sam kept vigil at his brother’s bed side, waiting and hoping that it would be his brother that finally awoke and not a Knight of Hell. Faith stayed close to Sam more out of fear of being alone, terrified that she would have another episode as she was now internally referring to it. She did feel a little different, stronger if anything, but she put that down to no longer needed to power that Oubliette. She looked over at Sam who had nodded off into a light sleep. Castiel entered the room and she greeted him by placing her finger to her lips, signalling to the angel not to wake Sam as this was the first time in days that he had allowed sleep to take over.   
“I will go and check on Alistair. I will need to move him to a more long term location,” Cas explained in a whisper.  
“You have such a place?” She whispered back.   
“Not yet but I am hoping Hannah will come back to me with some ideas soon enough, until then I will need to keep moving him. He is too smart; leave him some where for too long and he will find his way out. I will be back as soon as I can.”   
“Do you want me to call you when Dean wakes up?” She suggested.   
“No need, I should sense it now that we are linked, as you and I once were. How are you? I know we were only connected for a short time, yet I am quite aware that link is no longer there. It must be a lot more acute for you, as you have always been connected to the stone,” The angel remarked. 

 

“I’m good,” she said giving Cas a half truth. She did feel good but she was still unsettled but the magic mirror earlier on. “I just wish Dean would hurry up and come back to us. Sam is beside himself with worry,” She added.   
“Sam is always worried about something,” Dean said sitting up in the bed, “If it wasn’t this he would find something else, trust me,” he remarked smiling warmly at them all. Sam stirred at the sound of his brother’s voice.   
“Dean?” He said, not sure if he believed what he was seeing. Dean swung his legs off the bed and stood up, holding out his arms.   
“Come on; bring it in, little brother. Let’s get this hug done,” Dean said. Sam didn’t need to be asked twice; he too stood as his brother wrapped his arms around him and smacked him on the back a couple of times. Sam did likewise, although he did hold on a little longer than was comfortable, to which Dean laughed. “Its ok Sam, it’s me, I’m back and I’m not going anywhere,”   
Separating from his brother Dean turned to Cas and gave him a massive hug also.   
“It is just me or does Dean seem different to anyone else,” Cas mumbled from beneath Dean’s arm. Faith laughed.   
“It’s the Oubliette, when it’s new or at full power it gives off an overwhelming sense of well being and optimism. He is a little high right now, it will eventually balance out. Surly and sullen Dean will be back, just enjoy this while it lasts, you will be lucky if you get an hour or so,” she explained.   
“Any you,” Dean announced looking at Faith. “You, how can I thank you enough, seriously, you are awesome,” he said picking her up and squeezing her tightly while spinner her around. Cas shot the pair a confused uncomfortable look before turning back to Sam.   
“I need to go, check in on you know who,” he whispered. Sam nodded his silent agreement before looking back as Dean who had place a breathless and dizzy Faith back on her feet.   
As predicted, Dean’s buzz lasted a little over an hour, in which time he asked no questions about his time as a knight, the Oubliette or who Cas had going to check on. Eventually he started to ask little questions, started with the Oubliette. The more he questioned the more he learned and the more he learned the more the feeling of wellbeing faded. The more the feeling left him, the more serious and darker the questions became, until the moment Sam had been dreading.   
“The hunters, in the warehouse,” Was all Dean said, Sam and Faith both looked at each other. “Look I know what you are going to say, that it wasn’t me, that it was the knight that killed those kids. But that’s not the case is it. I wasn’t possessed, I killed those boys.”   
“Toby, Carl and Peter,” Sam interrupted. Dean looked up and met his brother’s eye. “I thought, you’d want to know who they were,” he said as he slid the three driver licences across the table,” Dean picked each of them up individually looking intently at there pictures, as if trying to burn there images into his mind. He then silent placed them into his own wallet and spoke no more on it, neither Sam nor Faith pressed the matter further.   
Dean spent some time quizzing Faith on the Oubliette, asking if different things feelings and sensations were normal or not.   
“I pretty sure that’s not normal,” he suddenly said.   
“What?” Faith asked.   
“Am, I think Cas is in trouble,” he said. “I don’t know how I know; it’s like a gut feeling or something.” In answer to this his mobile started to ring. Dean grabbed it from his pocket and put it to his ear. After a second or so he growled, “Crowley,” at the voice on the other end of the phone.   
“Dean, I assume you have been rendered impotent once again,” Crowley responded bitterly.   
“What the hell do you want you son of a bitch?” Dean snapped impatiently, the sound of the king’s voice reminding him of his latest stint in hell.   
“Always straight down to business, no small talk, no polite chit chat,” the demon replied.   
“I have nothing to say to you, Crowley, except maybe to tell you that you now top of the Winchesters hit list. And you know better than most, nobody holds that position for long,” Dean threatened.   
“I have to admit I’m honoured Dean, it’s a prestigious title to have. However I believe it will be a rescue and not a revenge mission you will be partaking in next,” Crowley teased. “Tell Moose to check his email, call me back when you are ready to deal,” he said before hanging up.   
“Sam, open your email,” Dean instructed his brother with a concerned look on his face. Sam opened his inbox and spotted a new mail addressed from theking@hell.com. It has no subject and contained no message just a video file attachment. Sam double clicked on icon and it immediately opened to a full screen video of a bound, gagged and bleeding Cas.  
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed under his breath.  
A fist flew into frame connecting with the angels jaw, sending blood and saliva spraying across the room. The shot panned out allowing the owner of the fist come into view. Crowley turned from Cas to face the camera and held up his hand showing the silver knuckleduster he was wearing.   
“Had this crafted from an angel blade. I sometimes find those things a tad impersonal, I’m bit a bit like you in that sense Dean, I also like to get my hands dirty.” Cas raised his head and attempted to say something into the camera, to which Crowley responded with another blow to his face.   
“Come on Castiel, do you really want to do a ninth take, at this rate we will be here all night, I can keep doing this but I don’t believe you can.” Crowley centred himself in the shot and addressed the camera once more. “As you can see I have something that belongs to you, and you have something that belongs to me. I am suggesting a simple exchange, your angel for my knight.”   
The king walked behind Cas and placed an angel blade to the angel’s neck. “This isn’t open for negotiation, if I don’t have what is rightfully mine returned to me in the next two hours I will kill your friend and then come and take my knight back by force. Let’s see how well you do up against me without heavenly intervention. Two hours. Don’t be late.” The video went black.   
“Shit!” Faith said. “It never bloody ends, does it?” Dean began to call Crowley back but Sam snatched the phone out of his hand.   
“Whoa, what are you doing?” he asked.   
“Calling him back, we have two hours Sam, we need a location,” Dean replied reaching for his phone.  
“Yes we do, but we need a plan too. There is no way I am letting you anywhere near Crowley, if we do this we need to do it smart,” Sam said.   
“And smart to you is going after Crowley on your own, no Cas, no me,” Dean snapped.  
“Hey, he won’t be alone, he’ll have me,” Faith chimed in.  
“No way!” they both said in unison.  
“Sorry, Faith, but you have done more that enough; there is no way either of us will allow you in on this,” Dean stated.  
“Besides, you are not an Oubliette anymore, you have nothing protecting you,” Sam added. Faith frowned, furious to have been side lined so quickly and definitely.   
“As I was saying, you are not going up against Crowley alone,” Dean began.  
“Dean, you are still shaky and not 100% yourself. The Oubliette in you, doesn’t have the same external effect as it did with Faith, all your power is going to contain the Mark, it won’t be able to protect you. You are walking in to battle wounded and that could be more of a hindrance to me than a help,” Sam explained.   
“No Sam, we are doing this together, it’s the only way that works. I made that mistake going after Metatron and look where it got me,” Dean said. Sam sighed heavily; he knew his brother wasn’t going to back down. He said nothing as he handed the phone back. Dean dialled Crowley.   
“So Dean, you ready to come home to your king?” Crowley asked.   
“You lay another hand on Cas, I swear I will take that hand from you and shove it up your…”   
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill; wing boy here is in safe hands, for the next two hours anyway,” Crowley said interrupting Dean’s threat. “Your little brother has another email, coordinates to the meeting place. See you there. Oh and Dean, you try anything stupid, any stereotypical Winchester moves, I will I clip you angel’s wings and drag him to hell where I will baste and roast him like a turkey.” Again Crowley hung up the phone. He patted Castiel on the cheek, “Hang in there buddy, this will be all over soon.” Turning around he then spoke to an equally bound and gagged Alistair. “Don’t worry, I have plans for you too, once I get Dean back, I’ll let you go, I’m pretty sure you’re looking for some payback from Cas here and of course Sam and the Oubliette too. Once I have my knight, you can go and do as you please. Until then, however, I’d rather not have you running loose and possibly gunning my throne, you understand?” Crowley asked. Alistair showed no sign of a response, just continued to stare angrily and intently at the supposed king of hell. “Yeah, you understand,” Crowley answered for him. 

“That’s practically a two and a half hour drive from here,” Sam exclaimed, looking at the email, “We will never make it in time.”  
“We don’t have a choice,” Dean answered, already running for the door. Come on lets go,” In response, Faith stood. “Don’t even think about it. We don’t have time to argue about this again,” Dean said to her, cutting her off before she could say anything. “Come on Sam, we gotta go,” he shouted impatiently.  
“Yeah, I’m with you” he replied, gathering up his things in a rush. They were going out the door without out as much as a goodbye.  
Faith had never felt more useless in her life, she had always had a purpose, a reason, a job and now she was relegated to the chick that gets left behind at the first sign of trouble. She hated everything about the situation, but most of all she hated that fact that the boys were right. What good would she be in a fight against the king of hell, how could she possibly help?   
“You have more power than you will allow yourself to believe,” the voice spoke again.   
“See, if anything I am a liability, I’m going insane, the battle field is the last place I should be,” she said out loud to herself, pretending to ignore the other voice in the bunker.   
“This is stupid, you are wasting time, and all the while those boys are on their way to a fight they have no hope of winning. They are all going to die, Castiel, Sam and Dean, all three will end up in hell and why? Because you are too stubborn or too chicken to admit to yourself that what I am telling you is true,” the voice said, no longer patient and calm.  
“Shut up shut up shut up!” Faith shouted to the room, her frustration bubbling over. Without any interference from Faith the contents of the desk in front of her rose off the table and threw itself against the wall. Faith stood and stepped back in shock, her hands covering her open mouth.  
“Ok that’s a good start but let’s try for more control. The chair over the far side of the room, try picking it up and putting it down over here next to you,” The voice said in a friendly tone once again. Faith didn’t think about it, didn’t argue or try to rationalise what she was doing. All she did was focus on the chair and on how it was over there and that it should be over here. With a surprising amount of ease the chair gently rose and slowly but steadily travelled across the room, setting itself down next to her. Faith let out an inadvertent squeal of delight before the fear and realisation of what was happening set in. She was… she was something, but what? Did it matter? She had something to bring to the battle, power and surprise; she might be the only hope they had.   
“But they were gone and were already out of time before they had even left, I have no chance of making it to Crowley before the deadline,” she said out loud, hoping for an answer. None came. She sat defeated in the chair she had moved across the room. Then it hit her, the chair had moved over here because she decided it needed to be here. “I need to be at the coordinates Crowley gave, not here in the bunker,” she said aloud and then focused on the location. She felt nothing, no movement, no change but when she opened her eyes she was no longer in the bunker. She wasn’t where she needed to be but at least it wasn’t the bunker. She was in a night club, surround by people drinking and dancing. She edged her way to the bar and took out her phone. The bar man approached her and ordered a beer just to seem like she was meant to be there. Looking at her GPS, she was closer, probably closer than the boys were in the impala but closer wasn’t right. The barman placed a bottle in front of her and she handed over some cash before necking the content. When he returned with her change she was gone and the bottle was empty.   
The next time she opened her eyes she was in a deserted car park. Again she checked her GPS. This time she was pretty much where she needed to be, no more than a twenty minute walk. She didn’t dare try ‘blinking’ there in case she ended up further away. She checked her watch; she had about half an hour till Crowley’s deadline. “Time to start hoofing it,” she said to herself.  
She had thought about calling the boys, as she walked but never really came to a definitive decision on it, she was too unsure as to how they would react to her new abilities. Ok, she had no choice but to admit that she was lying to herself; there was no doubt how they would react and she knew there was no time to start throwing questions and doubt into the mix. She had to stay hidden till the last minute that was as far as her plan had gotten, she had the element of surprise but beyond that she had on idea. She, herself still somewhat doubted what she could actually do to help. 

Both Sam and Dean reminded silent in the car for a long time. Sam was unsure how to help his brother through the guilt he must be feeling however Dean was feeling guilty that he didn’t feel worse over what he had done as a knight. He couldn’t articulate it, yes he felt horrible for the actions and deeds he had carried out under the influence of the Mark. He knew what he had done and he knew that what he had done was unspeakably terrible but it wasn’t that it seem trivial to him, he just seem to be able for the first time in his life to compartmentalise the guilt, put it aside to be dealt with a later date, at least until they managed to rescue Cas. He knew Sam and knew that at some point he was going to have to talk it out with his brother but he couldn’t tell if right now he couldn’t or just wouldn’t discuss it.   
“We only have about thirty minutes left,” Sam said looking at the clock.  
“Yeah, and we are still about forty five minutes out,” Dean replied glumly. He was already flooring it; there was nothing more he could do to get them there any quicker. Despite everything, as much as he enjoyed driving and loved his car, he was going to miss being able to teleport.   
“Do we have a plan for when we get there?” Sam asked.   
“I’m driving; I figured the plan was your job,” Dean answered trying to lighten the mood.  
“Great, just like old times,” Sam replied.  
Dean looked over at his brother who had taken out his phone. “What are you doing?” he asked.   
“Calling Crowley, try and stall him, something, anything,” Sam replied frustrated that time was passing quicker than the road. Dean nodded his agreement. 

Faith was making better time than the brothers and was at the warehouse that was located at the coordinates Crowley had sent.   
“Shit!” she whispered to herself as she made a hasty dash for the cover of a neighbouring building. Crowley wasn’t taking any chances and had a pair of demons at each of the buildings entrances.   
“Bugger, bugger, bugger,” Faith cursed under her breath realising that she seriously had no idea what she was doing. She needed to get inside, stall until the boys could get here, they’d at least have a plan by now. She shook her head not believing she was going to do what she was about to do but still without another thought she stepped out from her hiding place and brazenly walked towards the door. The demons between her and the entrance spied her immediately and welcomed the distraction of an attractive victim to kill some time. They waited for her to approach them before the taller of the two addressed her.   
“You lost little lady?” he asked grinning at her.   
“Yeah, you have definitely made a wrong turn, too bad it was down a very literal dead end for you,” The other mocked.   
“Tell Crowley the Oubliette want to talk to him,” she said more confidently that she felt. To her enjoyment however the two demons lost their stupid grins at the mention of their king’s name. “I believe he will want to see me right away and unharmed,” she continued, still amazed as to how commanding her voice sounded when inside all she wanted to do was to turn around and run.   
The taller demon turned around and hurried off to speak to the boss, while the other led her slowly through the doors and warehouse. By the time she reached the room where Crowley and Cas were the king had been informed of her arrival and not wanting to show all his cards at once, Alistair had been removed from sight.   
Crowley was on the phone when she entered the room. He held up his hand and waved her in. He covered the mouth piece of the phone and whispered “This will just be a minute, please take a seat,” and gestured to an empty seat near Castiel who shot her a look that was equal parts confused and apologetic. She gave him a small smile and tried to instil some hope in the broken looking angel. “Look Moose,” Crowley said continuing on with his phone call, “I said two hours, now if your friend Faith can make it here in time I don’t see any reason why you can be here with my knight too.”   
“What? Faith is there? How?” Sam asked confused.  
“You are a terrible actor Sam; I warned your brother no funny business. I wonder what happens to an Oubliette when I kill its host while heaven’s batteries are still flat and the angel charged to look after her is tied to a chair. Well I guess I can find out while I wait for you two to arrive. Just be thankful that it’s bought you some more time before I turn my full attention back to dear old Cas.”   
“Wait, Crowley… God damn it, he’s gone,” Sam said, throwing the phone on to the dash in anger.   
“Did I hear right? There is no way Faith could be there,” Dean said.  
“Why would he lie about that? What would he have to gain?” Sam answered, “How long now?” he then asked.   
“Still another ten minutes at least,” Dean replied, the car being pushed to her limits, shook around them. 

Crowley tossed Faith a pair of cuffs. “If you wouldn’t mind doing the honours yourself, you can understand I really don’t want to get too close to you. I’ve had my fill of that particular roller coaster ride, thank you very much,” Faith obliged not knowing what else to do and secured the metal around each of her wrists and through the arm of the chair as Crowley watched closely ensuring it was done to his satisfaction. “Don’t worry I’m not actually going to kill you, I’ve promised you to someone else,” he said and then raising his voice as if for the benefit of someone in a nearby room he continued,” and the king of hell keeps his promises.”   
On the table behind Crowley sat an angel blade. If faith could move a chair, surely she could do the same to a blade. She focused on the gleaming metal willing it to move but nothing was happening. She kept breaking her focus to look back at Crowley. “Just ignore him,” she said to herself, he wasn’t paying any attention to her anyway too busy receiving an update from one of his demons. She looked back at the blade and again willed it to move. It began to tremble then quickly slid to the edge of the table. It startled Faith who again lost focus; the blade stopped precariously half off the table. Terrified it would fall and alert Crowley to her plan she begged it to stay put. Almost on cue she heard the rumble of the impala outside the warehouse.   
“Ah, the guest of honour and his lanky side kick have finally arrived,” Crowley announced and left the room to greet the boys in person. Faith didn’t hesitate, she shot a look at the blade and instantly it rose and with perfect accuracy flew across the room and landed into her cuffed hands. She quickly stowed it up her sleeve then met Castiel’s gaze. The angel said nothing and neither did Faith, knowing she had no answers for him and that it was a conversation they would have to have later, if they made it out of here that was.  
Dean and Sam were marched into the room flanked on either side demons and followed by Crowley who looked smugly pleased with himself.   
“You said a trade, Crowley, Cas for me, I’m here, now let the rest of them go,” Dean demanded.   
“It’s true that was the deal but you were late so technically the deal is null and void,” Crowley answered.   
“Really, you are going to welsh a deal, on a technicality? Your standards are dropping” Dean asked convincingly fanning disappointment in him.   
“Oh I’m keeping the deal, the trade still stands, you for Castiel. The angel is free to leave anytime he wants, but your brother and the Oubliette were not part of the deal and are therefore fair game,” Crowley explained. “And I have someone who is eager to be reacquainted with both of them.” Enjoying an entrance as much as Crowley, Alistair swanned in to the room having been freed from his bounds at Crowley’s order. Faith, Sam and Castiel all immediately recognised the meat suit that Alistair was wearing but Dean did not, not until his old mentor spoke to him.   
“I always knew we would meet again, Grasshopper,” he said. Dean instantly lunged at the demon but was swiftly countered by Alistair who with the wave of a finger tossed him like a doll across the room. Without a moments pause Alistair flicked his hand and Dean slid back across the floor coming to a stop at the higher demons feet. “I heard you were a knight, you don’t seem very knightly to me I’m afraid,” he said looking down at Dean. “I believe it’s this whore over here that has a hold of your balls at the moment,” he added pointing at Faith. “I hate to admit it but I was in a similar position. She does seem to get around. Well, a whore is a whore, is a whore.”   
“Call her a whore once more,” Sam spat.   
“What Sam, you’ll kill me again? But I see you are no longer juicing, I don’t believe you’ve got it in you,” Alistair taunted.   
“Well, it’s been fun all of us catching up again,” Crowley said, eager to get his knight safely back to hell. “But I have an under world to run. If you wouldn’t mind releasing my knight and we will be on our way.”   
“I don’t think so,” Alistair answered and placed his foot on Dean’s chest. “Both Winchesters are mine.” Crowley’s demons immediately advanced on Alistair who mumbled some words in Latin under his breath and they were gone. Crowley stood alone. “I have no interest in your throne, leave now or you are next,” The white eyed demon promised.   
“We had a deal,” Crowley responded.   
“I’m no crossroads demon. My word is not my bound. I’m an old school demon, double crossing; murdering, evil son of a bitch and I make no apologies for it. Now I gave you a choice, leave or die. It is more than I would offer most but hell needs a king and the way I see it, better the devil you know and all that.” Crowley went to say something more but thought better of it and blinked himself back to hell to lick the wounds his pride had taken.   
“Faith ‘The Oubliette’ Patton, Sam and Dean Winchester and Castiel all in one room, I have got to give it to the little king he certainly delivers. Now the only question is who do I kill first? I mean you are all going to die, and die painfully slowly but whom first?” He asked as he looked around the room. Dean struggled to get up from under Alistair’s foot. “Oh don’t worry Dean, there is no question that you are going to be last, you will watch everyone here take their last breath.” He lifted his foot off Dean but the knight remained locked to the floor. “And I think I’ll start with your brother. He did kill me after all.” Sam neither bound nor demonically trapped backed away as the demon bore down on him but he had nowhere to go and within three steps his back was to the wall. Alistair wrapped his hands around Sam’s throat, wanting to personally squeeze the life from him. The Winchester grappled at the demons hands but he was infinitely stronger and Sam was quickly losing strength in his limbs.   
Dean struggled to get up off the ground but he was still tightly pinned there, and Cas weakened but a mix of blood loss and the Enochian symbols that Crowley had carved into his chest, fought just to remain conscious. Faith desperately stared at the cuffs securing her to the chair and to her horror and relief the locks burst open and they dropped to the floor. Now free she jumped to her feet and lunged at Alistair, sliding the angel blade from her sleeve and burying it in between his should blades. The demon dropped Sam as surprised as Faith was as to what she was doing. The wound shone bright, and then faded.   
“Nice move whore, but I’m older than even the angels. The blade smarts alright but it won’t kill me,” he said and flicked his hand sending her hurtling across the room. She stopped mid air and gentle lowered herself to the floor.   
“It seems I’ve underestimated you twice now, whore. I won’t do it a third time,” he said.   
“You were told not to call me that,” she said as her eyes flashed from blue to red to black and finally stopping on white.   
“What the hell are you? You are no Oubliette,” Alistair asked.   
“No, not anymore, I am a little of everything, including a little bit of you, lets see how you like a fair fight,” she replied then flicked her head to the side; Alistair rose into the air and smashed into the corner of the room. He was quickly on his feet and raised both hands. Faith on the other side of the room felt his grip and she was pulled towards him. She was a little taken back at his strength and realised that it was she who had underestimated him this time. She attempted to resist but he was just too strong.   
“You, whore, might be a little bit of me, but I am a hell of a lot of me,” Alistair teased her as she continued to travel towards him.   
“I said stop calling her a whore!” Sam roared as he doused the demon in holy oil he had snuck in with him, this now seemed to be his new signature move. Before Alistair could respond Sam tossed his lighter on the ground before him and the demon ignited in a burst of flames. As the human host’s body burned Alistair was forced to make a hasty exit, pouring out as a plume of thick black smoke. Released from his grip Dean stood and without knowing how or why opened his mouth wide and drew the smoke inside, into the Oubliette. As the last of the black mist disappeared down his throat, Dean fell to his knees, writhing in pain as he fought to contain the new evil, pushing aside the mark to make room for Alistair. By the time he was able to look up again Sam and Faith were both by his side.   
“Holy crap, are you ok Dean?” Sam asked terrified. Dean was out of breath and it took a moment before he was able to speak.   
“Yeah, I’m good, its ok Sammy, I’m alright,” he said as he struggled to his feet. He wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, he felt awful, like he had gone ten rounds with heavy weight.   
“Is he trapped?” Faith asked.   
“I think so,” Dean replied.  
“How the hell did you do that, with the mark I thought there was no more room for any more evil?” She asked, still deeply concerned with what had just happened.   
“I don’t know but its done lets not question it,” he replied. “More importantly what the hell was that back there? How did you do that?” He asked.   
“It’s a long story, how about we get Cas out of here, we can discuss it later. I guarantee Crowley isn’t far away,” she suggested, temporally dodging the question.   
The three of them remained silent as they bundled Cas into the impala. Dean tossed Sam the keys and quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat as they drove back to the safety of bunker.   
By the time they arrived Cas had begun to recover, his wounds starting to disappear. He and Dean both slept for most of the night while Faith explained everything she knew about what was happening to her with Sam.   
“I’m fairly confident its nothing like the mark, it is just power, no more inherently evil than electricity,” she said.   
“Or dynamite,” Sam retorted.  
“Look I know there isn’t a lot or precedent to suggest that this is anything but another curse but I feel it Sam, this is not a bad thing. I’m not a demon or a knight I’m still just me albeit with a little extra punch,” she tried to explain.   
“I hope you’re right,” Sam said still unconvinced.   
“Well, I was hoping I could maybe hang around, help out, that way you can keep an eye on me make sure I don’t hulk out or anything,” she suggested.   
“Hey, after everything you have done for us, you are family now whether you like it or not, you are welcome here as long as you can put up with us,” he replied a little relieved.   
“Thanks,” she said, also relieved, she really didn’t know how she would go back to her old life now plus she still felt a little responsible for the Oubliette and was reluctant to just totally abandon it even if it was Dean’s now.   
“I’m going to try and get some shut eye,” she announced giving Sam a warm hug before she left.   
Sam sat alone in the study for a while listening to the ticking of the bunker. It sounded different somehow, it sounded full. He knew that just down the hall three of the numerous rooms now housed sleeping members of his family. All beat up and tried but all alive and recovering. He eventually got up and poured himself a whiskey.   
“Will you pour me one too?” Dean asked as he entered the room.   
“Sure,” Sam said handing Dean a glass. “How are you feeling?” he asked sitting next to his brother.   
“Better, worse. I don’t know,” Dean said draining his glass. Sam reached for the bottle and topped it up again.   
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.   
“It just seems more real now. Since I took in Alistair, you know.”   
“No, I don’t,” Sam replied not understanding.   
“Before, everything I did, as a knight, it seemed like it was me but a different me. I think it was the Oubliette’s power protecting me for the full reality of all I had done. But now since I took in Alistair, I guess I’ve put more pressure on the Oubliette and it’s no longer able to buffer the reality as much,” Dean paused and drained his glass once again. When Sam didn’t automatically refill it Dean slid it across the table and waited for it to be returned full again. “Sam, I didn’t just kill those kids, I tore them apart and I loved it. It was hell all over again,” he admitted.   
“Dean, neither of those times were your fault. It wasn’t you,” Sam explained.  
“How many more times are you going to have to say that to me?” Dean said “How many more times am I going to become a monster and expect to be allowed to walk away without punishment.”   
“Dean, the time in hell, sure it must have been awful but they were no innocents,” Sam said.  
“Those kids were,” Dean retorted.   
“Yeah, they were and yes you are going to carry their deaths with you the rest of your life, but Dean, you held back, more than anyone expected possible, if it wasn’t for you and your strength it could have been so much worse,” Sam added. Dean took a deep breath and drained his glass for a third time but said nothing more on it.  
“So I met Faith on her way to bed, seems you are now living with an ex-demon with Oubliette powers and an ex-Oubliette with demonic powers,” Dean said smiling weakly but warmly at Sam.   
“Yeah, never a dull moment around is there?” Sam replied.  
The two brothers sat next to each other in silence, both hurting but both healing, knowing that as long as they had each other and some good friends around them they at least had a chance to weather whatever storm came next.


End file.
